In the Background
by CaMiAk
Summary: There is always more to the story. So many pieces are left uncovered and so many characters neglected. In particular, this story follows such an important yet neglected character, the Princess Zelda, and how she fits into the political drama of Hyrule.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

Of all the creatures in all the lands, in all the planets and worlds and spaces, cows must be the single most boring, Malon reflected. The ten or so cows that the ranch had were out to pasture in the space of the field just beyond the ranch, lazily chewing cud and meandering about. Malon, armed with a springy piece of birch, rested against the walls of the ranch, idly cleaning the dirt off her shoes with a twig. She was there to watch and ensure that no cows wandered off or bolted, which they never did, making the job, on the whole, pointless. But, she supposed, it was better than actual labor. Even if it did make your brain liquefy and seep out your ears.

Now, unbeknownst to Malon and the other inhabitants of Lon Lon Ranch, the unusually and unnecessarily high walls of the ranch provided more than sufficient cover from prying eyes for anyone with more subtlety than an elephant. And naturally, the Gerudo elite had dexterity to spare.

From their places, hidden in the nooks and crannies about the ranch, they had an easy view of the market town and capital in front of the castle, and yet, neither the casual observer nor the trained guards from the palace would spot them. If anything, the biggest risk was if the farm girl strayed from her cows, and stumbled into someone. It was an easy mission.

In truth, sending the elite warriors had been overkill, since it was just a spy mission. They were only to watch the comings and goings of the market, when the drawbridge was opened, when it was shut, and how long it took to raise it. They scoped out the number of guards and alternative entrances and whether their warriors could scale the walls. It was simple enough.

Although the Gerudo were technically not forbidden to enter the city (which they did often, though they tended to gravitate towards the rather dingier districts), it would be best not to raise the Hylians' suspicions at such a crucial point in their plans. Negotiations hadn't even begun, so a low profile was imperative.

Hours passed as they watched. They light waned in the sky before fading into a blackness punctuated by a few stars. One by one, the Gerudo began to slip away from the ranch, to reunite of the border of the desert.

As if in tribute to their skills, not one inhabitant of the ranch even sensed their presence.

* * *

The king of Hyrule was not amused. His brow was furrowed in a mix of frustration and concern, while his lip curled slightly in disguised disgust. Exhaling deeply, and running his wrinkled fingers through his white beard, he pressed his forehead against the window pane, vaguely appreciating the cold relief of the glass against his skin. A rather rotund man, but tall nonetheless, with white hair and beard, the king had an unquestionably regal bearing, but with recent stress, today he looked older than usual.

Beneath his window, the Gerudo procession marched through the market place, as his worries increased exponentially. The gilded parade shown with unexpected splendor as each highly decorated warrior strode past, each dressed in silky, geometric patterned fabric placed lightly over their breasts and legs (hardly appropriate for the climate, the king mused. They must be freezing) and each with flaming red hair and two polished scimitars bound to their hips.

The townspeople had already begun to gather about the procession, gaping, pointing, a few jeering, but most in complete awe. They had likely never seen one of the infamous Gerudo tribe, and no one had ever seen them gathered in such numbers. It was almost terrifying, the king though, as he leaned against the glass.

As Zelda entered the office she noted her father's humor immediately. Even at the age of ten, she was adept at noting the subtle changes in a person's behaviors and moods. The way her father subconsciously clenched and unclenched his fists behind his back was a surefire indicator that he was not idly staring out the window.

"What is wrong, father?" Zelda asked quietly, then immediately regretted it when her father started and spun around so rapidly he knocked three quill pens from his desk in the process.

"Oh, Zelda dear. Silly of me," he chided himself, though his breathing was still slightly harder than usual. Slowly, he bent over to retrieve his pens and forced his mind to return from its reverie to the warm, cherry oak furnishings of his office, and to the little blond girl in front of him. Zelda really was quite petite for a ten-year-old, barely reaching the king's waist. She had her mother's clear, blue eyes and delicate facial structure, and was clothed in the traditional dress of the Hylian Royalty, including the rather cumbersome headdress wrapped around most of her long hair. Admittedly, the outfit was for the most part obsolete, in addition to being rather heavy and a tad bit ridiculous, but Impa insisted that it would make a strong impression on the Gerudo, so Zelda obediently suffered in silence.

"Are you alright, Father?" Zelda asked again.

"Yes, dear, yes," the king sighed, "trying times, is all."

"I thought treaties were supposed to be a time for celebration and peace," Zelda countered, with a hint of know-it-allism in her voice. The king noted the tone but didn't comment. He understood that his daughter needed to feel intelligent and believe that she was "right", since she was not particularly graceful nor beautiful nor witty, and thus received much of her pleasure from flaunting her knowledge. It still surprised the king, from time to time, how much a girl that size noticed. Yet, despite all her powers of observation, she lived in a strange bubble of naiveté. She was always picking up a new crusade for a hopeless case and lived under the strange delusion that she could actually change something. The young princess walked a fine line between harsh, cold reality and a land of childhood idealism. It was this balance, this separation, which made it so difficult for the King to explain what was happening to her.

"This treaty," the king sighed, "is not like the other ones."

"But I though you wanted peace with the Gerudo, so they'll stop stealing and such."

"We do, but it's more complicated than that."

"Why?" Zelda asked. The king withdrew a breath to respond when the heralding of trumpets alerted him that the parade had reached the outer walls of the castle. He had to leave to go greet their king, whom he suddenly realized he had never seen. The Gerudo had an odd custom in which the king followed behind his people in a procession, the opposite of the Hylian tradition. Ah well, the king thought, he can't be hard to pick out from a group of all women.

Zelda was still waiting patiently for his answer. The king was about to excuse himself when the door to the office opened suddenly. Impa, the muscular, white-haired Sheikah guardian entered and, after a hasty and informal bow to the king, grabbed the princess' arm and escorted her out, strangely silent all the while. Not that Impa was ever particularly talkative, but over the last few days she had become even quieter than usual, and spoke only in harsh rebukes, even to Zelda. Her silver eyes were harder than usual and though Zelda couldn't understand why, it was all too apparent that something was bothering her.

Impa led Zelda down the halls of the palace at an uncomfortably fast pace for her tiny legs. After a few sharp turns the woman finally snapped, "You have an awful knack for disappearing at the worst moments, you know that?" She didn't pause in her walking, though, and Zelda began to stumble as she tried to keep pace. Finally, on the verge of tripping on her overly-long skirt, Zelda decided that she would take no more.

On impulse she halted in her tracks, employing the best of her weight to force Impa to stop in her tracks. It didn't work completely, since the girl was so much lighter than her nursemaid and she was still dragged forward a few inches, but Impa got the general idea.

"What is going on?" Zelda asked, trying to be more firm than she felt, with Impa's gaze on her. To her surprise, however, the woman softened.

"A great deal many things, _chiat,"_ Impa replied, resorting slightly to her native tongue to deal with the young girl.

"Why will no one explain it to me?"

"Because, my girl, it is more complicated than most people would like to believe."

"That's what everyone keeps saying. It's complicated. It's complicated. Why?" The little girl was fed up, Impa recognized. If there was one thing that she couldn't stand it was when other people withheld information or treated her like she was a child. Of course, she was a child, but this argument hardly held sway in her headstrong mind.

"Very well, I will tell you. But we must walk as I do so; you are late as it is." And so the pair set off again, possibly faster than before, to make up for the lost time.

"You are, of course, aware that there will be a treaty signed tonight between the Kingdom of Hyrule and the Gerudo Nation, correct?"

"Yes, of course. That's why we're having the party. But that's a good thing."

"Not necessarily. Not everyone agrees that this treaty should be signed."

"Well, of course not everyone," Zelda began, citing one of the first lessons she ever learned. "There's no way to make _everyone_ happy."

"I suppose so, _chiat_," Impa sighed.

"Why don't they want the treaty?" Zelda asked, curiously.

"Many reasons. First, if we sign a treaty with the Gerudo, then it means that we consider them equals- or equal enough to negotiate with them."

"Shouldn't they be equal?" Zelda asked, with a childlike innocence.

A guard drew near in the hall, and the pair instinctively quieted. They both knew that this was not a conversation that they were meant to be having. They waited until he had passed and they were in a different, stone hallway, which looked conspicuously like the rest (gray, with torches on the walls and little in the way of decoration and light), before they spoke again.

"Impa, why shouldn't they be equal? They can think just like us, can't they?" Zelda asked, persistent as ever.

"True, very true, but many people would not agree with you."

"Well they should! That's not fair."

"Ah, princess, it is a long story."

"Well, I want to hear it."

"Another time, perhaps. But now we draw near to the banquet hall, and it would hardly be proper to speak about these matters in front of the Gerudo themselves, would it?"

Zelda sighed in resignation and permitted Impa to fix her headdress on her head and adjust her attire ever so slightly in a mother-ish way, until she deemed the child presentable. Finally the pair walked into the banquet hall, heads held high and shoulders straight. Impa retreated back from her charge to the respectable distance of where a guard should stand, careful not to betray the personal nature of their relationships. A friendship with a nurse would be acceptable, but a friendship with a Sheikah would not. Even though the shadow folk were the traditional guardians of the royal family, this custom had fallen out of favor, and it was only with great cunning that Impa had reached her position. Zelda, for her part, carefully upheld this charade, though she did not particularly understand the reason behind it.

The banquet hall had been transformed, almost miraculously, overnight through the endless toil of a careful staff. The curtains had been drawn back from the windows and fresh, clear sunlight flooded the room as it rarely did (the staff was ever afraid of letting the sun bleach the cloth coverings on the chairs and tables. Then it had been realized that the curtains were dusty and they had been taken down (heaven only knows how), beaten, and re-hung. Finely woven tapestries adorned the walls, while beautiful tablecloths covered each of the grand mahogany tables. Zelda was relieved upon entering to see that the Gerudo party had not arrived yet. Such were the difficulties of large parades- impressive to behold but notoriously slow.

At the front of the room stood the most important table. It was made of a deep, reddish-brown wood with ornate carvings down the legs and with matching chairs. Atop the every chair and spread across the table was a hand-stitched covering embroidered in golds and scarlets. This was the head table, at which the most important dignitaries of both parties would sit, one Gerudo next to one Hylian, to symbolize the end of the divide between the two nations. It was a formality always taken at the signing of a treaty. Zelda herself would sit at this table, surrounded by Gerudos. She couldn't help but feel a little excited by the thought.

Beyond the head table were three other tables, larger and plainer than the first, but by no means uncomfortable. They were for the remaining crowd of assorted nobles, warriors, knights, and dignitaries from other nations who were not directly involved in the treaty but had come to witness its signing. They would be seated according to rank.

From this rule, however, there had developed quite a few problems, which Zelda had heard the various workers debating over the days spent preparing for the signing. How did a Gerudo warrior rank compared to a Hylian knight? Were they higher, lower or the same? What about lower level guards? And where did the Goron and Zora ambassadors fit in there? Everyone was trying so hard not to offend anyone else that it was borderline absurd. The seating chart had been rearranged so many times that even Zelda didn't entirely know where to sit anymore.

It was in this initial seating chaos, before the Gerudo party had even entered the hall, that Zelda first noticed something.

"Impa," she commented, "there are no Sheikah here!"

"No, _chiat_, there are not."

"Shouldn't there be?"

"We prefer not to meddle in affairs that are not our own," she responded coolly, though she gave Zelda's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Zelda knew for a fact that this statement was not true. Impa stuck her nose into almost all of Zelda's comings and goings, whether or not it in any way related to her duties. Still, the absence of the mysterious shadow people puzzled her. After all, a treaty between two of the largest nations was surely everybody's affair. Of course, this raised another, peculiar question.

"Impa, where will you sit?"

"I will not."

Zelda was slightly affronted. "Why not. Surely there is a seat for you somewhere."

"It is not an insult, Zelda. By no means. I simply cannot perform my duty from a seat since, by this bizarre arrangement, I would likely be on the other side of the room wedged between of the guards. No, dear, I will stand."

Zelda wondered to herself how this could stop her from fulfilling her duties. She was a nursemaid, of all things, not a guard. Perhaps, Zelda reflected, she thought that she couldn't chastise her charge from any farther away.

However, the young girl could not puzzle the situation much longer, because another long brass note announced the arrival of the Gerudo into the banquet hall itself. The party was much larger than it had seemed from the window, and the servants went into an uproar trying to get everyone seated in their proper places. The king thanked the goddesses that the Hylian party and other delegates had all been carefully seated before the desert-dwellers even arrived. He hoped against hope that this small breach of protocol would not offend anyone. That was, of course, the idea of all the formality surrounding the banquet. No one must be offended. A single, poorly-worded comment could lead to more deaths and possibly stop the treaty itself. Such was the delicate game of diplomacy.

Slowly, the lower-level Gerudo were in place, leaning in their chairs with a conspicuously casual air, as was their way. They had been made to leave their weapons, in the hall, for this was a room for peace, but those around them still eyed them cautiously, for many did not doubt that if they felt so inclined, they could murder a person with their bare hands. Soon, as the rest of the warriors filed into place, only the head table remained empty.

The king and his daughter stood waiting to greet the Gerudo leader and his highest ranking followers. The Gerudo king always followed in the back of his procession, and so he was the last to enter the room. Zelda, whose attention span was still growing, had lost her concentration and was busy observing the scarlet-haired members of the crowd when he entered. She did not noticed his presence until her father spoke to him.

"Good sir, I and my people bid you welcome to my home. I hope that this treaty will mean everlasting peace for both our kingdoms."

"Indeed," the other man replied, apparently not much for words.

Zelda swiveled her head to observe the man and gave a little jump to discover that he was only a few feet from her, exchanging a hand-shake with her father. He was a large man, even a huge man, much taller than the Hylian king, who was by no means diminutive. His armor was freshly polished and evidently made by a smith who rivaled Hyrule's best craftsmen. He too had left his blade outside, but she imagined that it would have been an impressive piece, much larger than anything she could ever hope to lift. He had the scarlet hair and wide-set nose and mouth that signified his desert heritage.

But his eyes were the part which attracted Zelda's attention. They were a strange, gold color. The more the girl stared at them however, the more they seemed to transition to a red, like a fire was burning inside of them. Soon she could not tear her own eyes from his and she tried to scream, but nothing came out. Then the fire was burning his entire face and the rest of the room was ablaze.

Then, the vision consumed her.

Although her mind was too far from the banquet hall to know it, Zelda fainted and hit her head hard on the stone floor, before Impa was instantly on her.

* * *

She was sitting, alone, apparently somewhere in Hyrule Field. Where was Impa? What was happening? She wanted to cry out as she saw that the entire landscape was ablaze. The air was heavy with smoke, which clogged her throat until she couldn't scream and could barely breathe. Father, Impa, she thought. Please, help me. Where are you? She tried to locate the direction of her home but the heavy smoke and ghastly dark clouds in the sky hid everything from her view. Everything but him.

The Gerudo king stood there, so nonchalantly that she instantly knew that he was the cause of all the devastation. He didn't seem to notice her, however, so she decided that first she had to escape him, and then decide on a plan. However, as she tried to move away, she noticed that her arms and legs were chained. The iron bindings were so heavy that she could barely lift her limbs, let alone move. She pulled a little, trying to escape, but to no avail. Once more she wanted to scream, but her throat would not work.

Attracted by the noise, however, the Gerudo king turned around to face her. He walked slowly towards her, his face impassive. She waited for rage to flash in his eyes and for his hand to reach out and strangle her. Instead, he sat down beside the girl, trailing his hand over her cheeks, laughing quietly to himself.

Between his chuckles, he was whispering words to her, but in her panic she could not understand them. She was simply shaking her head, tears forming, trying her hardest to move away from him. Then, faster than she imagined him capable of, he reached out and grabbed her arm. She could have sworn his hand was glowing yellow! The chains fell off instantly and he pulled her to her feet.

He was running then, and so was she. She couldn't control her legs and they kept following him. She ran with him as fast as she could, although, more often then not she was pulled off her feet and flew in the air for a few seconds before landing, once more running. She didn't want to follow him. She wanted to fight back. And yet she couldn't stop herself, and before she knew it they were standing before a wall of fire.

He adjusted his grip to her shoulders and holding her tightly, pushed her into the flames before following himself. To her surprise, they both reached the other side unscathed. Now she was sobbing. What was happening? Where were Impa and her father? Why weren't they stopping this?

"Do you see now, princess?" he asked her. "Do you see?"

She coughed slightly, and found a thin tendril of her voice. "I see nothing," she whispered, trying hard to inject her voice with as much venom as possible.

He laughed in response, a cold, hard laugh with no humor in it and no warmth. "You are still so blind. Don't you know that I am your only chance? You would still be chained up back there, waiting for the fire to burn you. " She tried to jerk away but he held her even tighter, lifting her an inch or two off the ground, still laughing all the while.

"Now you are free. Now you can walk with impunity through the flames. As long as you follow me. As long as you stay with me you are safe. Do you see?"

Zelda steadied herself as best she could and, through her tears, she answered, "You- you started the fires."

He just laughed harder in response. "Prove it."

Zelda struggled to come up with an answer but it was just so hard to fight him when she knew that he was right. If she followed him she would be safe. Where are you, Impa? Impa, she knew, would be strong, she would do what was right. Then why couldn't Zelda bring herself to say the word 'no'?

He had stopped laughing, and was impatient for her response. "Tell me, princess," he began, almost conversationally, "have you ever burnt your hand on a stove or a candle?"

Eager to delay her choice, Zelda answered, "I have."

"Do you remember the pain? How you couldn't stop it. Even after you removed your hand, it ached for hours. Do you remember how no amount of water could quench the pain, and nothing could stop the steady searing? Now, imagine that all over your body. The heat and the pain until you died. It could be hours before you finally died. Do you see now?"

Zelda breathed in to answer but she inhaled only smoke and was beset by a coughing fit. In that moment, everything changed. A bright light, a pure white emerged from a point somewhere on the horizon. Squinting, Zelda could just make out the trees in the distance. _It is the forest,_ she thought. Where the light spread, the fires were dowsed and grass and trees re-grew, the dark clouds broke up and the air was purified. It flew over the land like the cool breath of life itself. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a silhouette form with the cloud of brightness.

It was a boy, she saw, with a fairy. They were dancing and playing and laughing. But then the boy straightened. He began to walk with a purpose, straight-backed like a soldier. The fairy, too, found a perch on his shoulder and did not play as it had. She wondered what had happened to the boy when she was suddenly dropped to the ground. The king was staring at the cloud of light, slightly pale, and Zelda seized the moment to back away from him. As the light approached them, it paused before the evil king. He looked at the light and for a moment grew bolder. Then the cloud gathered itself and plunged straight for his heart. His entire body disintegrated, leaving only the last echo of his screams.

Then they cloud reached Zelda, and there was no escape. Still, she ran, but it followed her. Somehow, she felt that it was curious. Finally, she reached a dead end, the light had enveloped everything but her. Slowly she turned around and did her best not to be afraid as the cloud approached her own, small body. Then, before it could act, she awoke.


	2. Chapter 2

She found herself lying down in her bed, in her room, to Impa's worried face peering over her. A cold cloth had been place on her forehead and she was no longer in her ceremonial gown but a much less restrictive night-dress. Zelda could just see the dark sky through a window set high in the corner.

"Impa," she asked, "Has the treaty been signed?"

Impa's firm mouth instantly softened and she breathed deeply. When she spoke, she spoke with a rare tenderness. "Zelda, _chiat_, you are awake. Are you well? Do not try to sit up. Here is water, try to sip slowly."  
Zelda, however, was not in the mood to be an invalid. "Has the treaty been signed?"

Impa looked at her curiously. "No, princess, the banquet is still continuing. There was quite an uproar about your fainting spell. The signing has been moved until tomorrow. You are, after all, meant to be present."

Zelda sighed at sat up despite her nursemaid's warnings. From her new vantage point, all of her room was visible. It was a plain sort of room, with minimal furnishings, although everything that was there was of the highest quality. Zelda had always opposed vanity. There was the one bed in the corner, which she and Impa shared, and an empty bed-roll on the floor, which most nights held a servant. On the other side there was a dresser, usually carefully filled.

However, it was plain the Impa had been in haste when Zelda had fainted. The curtains that surrounded the bed had been torn away so fast that a small section had been ripped off of its ring. In the hunt for her nightdress, the Sheikah had evidently grown so desperate that she had thrown every unwanted dress on the floor.

"Princess," Impa interrupted, "Drink… not too fast."

Zelda took the offered water, too shaken to do much else. What had just happened? The water was clean and cool, washing bitter tastes- Vomit? Blood?- out of her mouth. Suddenly, she felt very weak.

"Impa," she asked, "Do you know what happened?"

"Not for sure, Zelda," she sighed, "You simply fainted, some six hours ago. You didn't scream but you began to sweat very much and nothing anyone could do would wake you. We did all we could to keep you from getting a fever. Perhaps, if you described what you felt, I might be able to say more."

"No," Zelda answered, a little too fast before she corrected herself. "No, I felt nothing." She wasn't sure entirely why she had lied to Impa. Perhaps, she thought, if she pretended entirely that it was a dream then maybe it wouldn't be anything important. Or else, maybe, she was simply going insane. Then Zelda realized how sick it was that she would have been relieved to be mad.

"Well then," Impa replied, in a hard a strictly controlled voice, her old Sheikah strength returning, "I suppose it was dehydration."

"Yes," Zelda answered quietly, "dehydration."

"Of course, it was quite the miracle that you woke when you did. People were beginning to whisper that it was magic, that the Gerudo sorcerer had cursed you. It was threatening the health of the treaty."

That was curious detail. "The king, he is a sorcerer?"

"Yes, princess, and a powerful one, from what I hear," Impa responded, with a certain gravity in her voice. "For now, though, you must rest. All suspicion against the King Ganondorf will be lifted and things will proceed as planned. I shall return in a few hours and wake you in the morning, yes? Then you may witness the glorious event that is to be had."

Unsure of exactly why she said it, Zelda whispered under her breath, "Glorious indeed."

"What was that, Zelda?"

"Nothing."

Zelda knew full well that Impa had heard her perfectly- she never missed anything. Her nursemaid gave her a strange, appraising look, before finally closing the door on the princess. In the semi-darkness, the princess thought over the information she had gained from her conversation with Impa.

_So this king, this Ganondorf, he is a sorcerer. Perhaps he did curse me. Perhaps he gave me that vision. But then, why did he cut it short? _Just as soon as she asked this, the answer hit her. _He didn't want to wreck the treaty. He needs it for some reason. But what could he want? What was he trying to tell me?_

By the time she dropped off to sleep, she had no answers. Still, she slept soundly, desperately in need of rest. She didn't even notice when Impa returned and fell asleep beside her.

* * *

In the morning, when Zelda awoke, she woke long before Impa, which had almost never happened in the past. Even as she stirred, disturbed by the first rays of the sunrise, her guardian did not awake. Ordinarily, this might have alarmed the girl, but that morning, she needed the moment of peace. From her window she could look at the private courtyard. In the dawn light, the dew sparkled on each blade of grass, and there weren't any guards there yet to follow the noble occupants about. Suddenly, she wanted to be free and escape. She wanted to run barefoot away from her guards and her troubles. True, the courtyard was not quite an adequate substitute for escaping, but it would have to do because it was all she had.

The castle hallways were mysteriously empty that day, but Zelda was not bothered. She had not changed from her nightdress, although it was still damp from her feverish sweat the day before. She did not even put on slippers. Walking down the hallway, almost deliriously, the young girl didn't spare a thought for any propriety. All she wanted was freedom, even a brief escape.

The princess tiptoed through all of the halls of the castle, ready to hide if she met someone. Luckily, no one came to bother her and she reached the courtyard with relative ease. The yard was fairly simply designed. It was shaped like a hexagon, surrounded on 5 sides by walls and on one side by a tunnel which led to the guard's training yards. Around the outside, there was a moat-like "river" about 2 feet across and 6 inches deep. Beside this ran a few inches of white tile. The rest of the yard was all grass, flowers, and trees.

However, Zelda had a special place in mind. Just beside the tunnel, the was a little outcrop of wall which held up the structure. Inside of this there was little alcove, maybe four feet deep, in which the princess could curl up and wouldn't be noticed unless someone was specifically looking for her. She ignored the unpleasant cold and wet of the dew and she crossed to her hiding place. She slipped a little in her eagerness, landing up to her calf in the frigid water of the "river". Yet, the girl paid the cold almost no mind, not even as the white fringes of her sopping dress clung to her leg causing her to shiver. Sliding inside the alcove, Zelda curled up slightly and tried to clear her mind. Still, thoughts began to swirl about in her mind- _What did Ganondorf want? Who was the boy with the fairy? What did that white light mean and why could it beat Ganondorf? If her vision had finished, would it have destroyed her too?_

"I have heard, little princess, that you have the worst knack for disappearing at just the wrong time."

Zelda snapped out of her reverie, to see Ganondorf standing in front of her, effectively blocking her escape. He leaned casually against the wall as best he could, given he could barely fit in the alcove at all.

"I didn't believe it, at first. After all, what sort of future ruler would have so little sense so as to run off at such a vital political moment in such a fragile condition." His voice was just as deep and frightening as she remembered.

He raised his eyebrows at her, appraising her and enjoying her discomfort. "Then, wearing a dirty, night-dress of all things, she hides in the one place from which she has no escape, where no one could see her or find her and rescue her. What sort of ruler could that be?"

"I-I'll scream," Zelda answered, drawing her back against the wall behind her. Ganondorf merely drew closer to her, effectively hiding himself entirely from any prying eyes.

"No doubt you will. But, of course, I will simply respond that I saw you wondering, so inadequately dressed and that I was terribly worried you could have been delirious with fever. So I followed you and asked if I could help and you ran. I was simply so concerned that I followed you here, to ensure you were alright, and you started screaming."

"They wouldn't believe you," Zelda choked out.

"Really?" Ganondorf droned, "Look at yourself. Dressed so… inappropriately, sopping wet, and" he reached out and felt her forehead, "still feverish." Zelda shook her head to get rid of his hand and tried once more to back away from him, but she was pressed as close to the wall as she could go.

"Yes," he continued, "you certainly are the model of a believable witness. But, in truth, I came here merely to speak with you. Surely such a simple request can be granted?"

"I will gladly speak with you at the treaty signing, sir. For now I must return." Yet she didn't move, because she didn't suppose that he would budge. He didn't. She felt in his presences as if her fever had returned full-force, as if her limbs were about to light on fire. She tried her best not to look into his eyes, afraid of what vision it might trigger this time. Instead, she focused her gaze steadily on the center of his forehead, careful not to look down.

"You are not listening to me, princess. I asked to speak with you. Not with your father and his entourage, or with your nursemaid. I wish to speak with you. Can you suggest another place where just the two of us may converse?"

Zelda was silent.

"Exactly," he continued. "Now then, to business. Are you cold?"

"What?" Zelda asked, still not looking him in the eyes, trying not to remember the fear of her vision.

"You're shaking. Am I that intimidating?" He laughed slightly. It was the same laugh, that same cold, humorless laugh, and the princess felt the blood drain from his face. She was light-headed, and thought she would faint soon. _Please, not another vision, _she thought. _Not another_.

"Calm yourself. You have nothing to fear, at least, for the moment."

Now it was Zelda's turn to laugh. "Really?" she asked, "You corner me in a courtyard and won't let me leave and you way that I don't have anything to fear."

"True enough. Well, consider this. How would it look for me and my people if you showed up murdered the day of the signing?"

Zelda paused, but could not see a way to outsmart him. "Very well," she answered slowly, "We can talk."  
"Excellent." He smiled at her and shifted slightly, apparently uncomfortable. "Shame you had to pick some place so small though."

"Did you have a question, or something?," Zelda reminded him.  
"In a hurry? Alright, then. Answer me one thing. What did you see when you fainted yesterday?"

Instantly, his demeanor changed as he asked this. Where he had been somewhat casual and conversational, he was now suddenly darker. It was no longer any stretch of the imagination to picture him throttling her or smashing her head against the wall. Gently, he lowered himself to sit in front of her. Zelda breathed in sharply at this.

"Sir," she began slowly, "I was unconscious at the time. If you would like to know what happened, you would have to ask someone who was awake."

"I didn't ask what happened, girl. I asked what you saw. Now either, you will tell me or you will not. But do not lie!" He placed his hand right beside her head on the wall, and Zelda's heart began to pound.

"Very well then, sir, I will not tell you," Zelda replied in a shaky voice, trying hard not to cry from fear.

"Ah, but you haven't heard my offer, yet. Now, then, let me explain. Were you aware that I am a sorcerer?"

"No," Zelda lied. Ganondorf nodded,

"One of the strongest. Desert magic, is of course, slightly different from your Hylian varieties, but I'm sure even you know what a vision is? No? A vision is a sort of warning sent from some outside force, which hints at the future. You understand?"

Zelda nodded, unable to speak.

"Good. Now then, only a select few can have visions and then only with years of training. Unfortunately, I am not in that group."

Zelda blinked, confused. _I've never studied magic. That couldn't have been a vision_. The girl could have laughed with joy at the idea that it might have just been a dream.

"The idea that you could have had one is ridiculous, of course." Was that a note of bitterness in his voice? "Yet, there's all the evidence, right there. All the signs. The fainting, the fever. And of course, the sudden fear of me. I understand that you were quite the fan of the Gerudo before the incident, am I correct? It could have just been a dream, but then, why wouldn't you tell anyone, not even your Sheikah friend?"

"How do you know about that?" Zelda gasped.

"I know a great many things." He smiled, and Zelda wanted nothing more then to fold into herself and disappear.

"Now then, once this is established, then the only question is what did you see?"

"I already said I wouldn't tell you."

"Here me out, girl," he growled. "Now, I can guess that this vision involved me, and, since you won't look me in the eye, I can guess that it scared you. I have a deal for you, that I suggest that you consider.  
"Tell me about your vision. Tell me about every vision you've ever had and every vision that you have in the future. In exchange for this I can promise you that whatever fate or destruction you witnessed, those closest to you, your father and your Sheikah guardian, will be spared."

Zelda closed her eyes, and thought. She remembered how, when she was crying and chained down, she wanted nothing more than Impa or her father. She remembered how she wanted to scream for them but she couldn't. How much she has wanted them. To think she could have them there. She remembered the tears running down her cheeks and how relieved she was when she saw Impa's face when she woke up. She remembered, when Ganondorf had held her shoulders, how much she had wanted Impa's strength. Impa's strength so that she could tell him no.

She breathed deeply, summoning the last of her courage, and the most strength she could. She wasn't Impa, but she could do this.

"No. Just no." Once she said it, she didn't understand how she could have been so stupid. Ganondorf's face, for just a split second, twisted into the most ugly expression Zelda had ever seen, before he carefully masked it again.

"Alright. I understand. But you must understand something, too. You are simply too good a prize to let slide by. This doesn't end here."

"I understand," Zelda replied, amazed that she could still speak.

"And you understand that no one can know about this encounter, for both our sakes. No one would believe you, and you would only accused lying. Your father is completely determined to have this treaty go through, and his daughter will not sway this decision. Who knows, if I tried hard enough, maybe I could even have you declared mad. Have you ever seen a mad house, princess?"

"Yes," Zelda admitted. She remembered so well. The mad house was a cold, dark building, filled with drooling people, men who shouted threats for no reason, and a crazy woman who howled and yipped at her. She thought that merely being in that building she would soon go mad herself. Once, when her father tried to get her to return on a second visit, she had sobbed until he was forced to abandon the idea.

"Well, then, until later, princess."

He stood up and left the alcove without looking back at her, leaving the girl to herself, wet and shivering in the early morning.

* * *

Impa was trying to get Zelda to talk. Trying and failing. Ever since she had found the girl huddled up in the courtyard, the princess hadn't said a word. Everyone thought that she had been seriously ill, and in a delirious state, had wandered outside. Impa thought differently, but she couldn't explain to anyone exactly why.

Impa had taken her inside, to her room, immediately after she found her, dressed her up in warmer clothing and waited for her to stop shivering. The Sheikah had hoped that when she was warm and comfortable she would have the strength to explain to Impa what had happened. Instead, she merely sat perfectly still, staring off into the distance and paying not the slightest bit of attention to Impa. Now Impa had procured a piece of the girl's favorite cake, in an effort to bribe her to speak.

"Zelda, princess, it is your favorite. I know you want it. Please, just speak to me. Just look at me." Impa did not usually approve of bribery or begging, but she was desperate. Still, the girl remained as still as a statue. Impa sat down beside the princess on the bed, defeated, when she realized her mistake. She had been bribing the princess with the wrong object. She could resist cake, surely, but she could never resist information. "Well, then, if you won't speak with me, I will speak with you. The treaty's been delayed again due to your health." Impa could have sworn she saw Zelda twitch at that sentence. "Do you want to know when it will be signed?"

Zelda nodded almost imperceptibly, and in spite of her shocked state, she was growing excited. Impa could only barely detect the change in her demeanor, but she was encouraged.

"Well then, princess, you're going to have to say something. Not anything important, we'll work our way up to that. Just anything so I know that you're alive."

Zelda hesitated, not wanting to set herself up to have to tell Impa everything, but eventually the need to know won out.

"Tell me everything, Impa," she said quietly, and turned to see her nursemaid.

Internally, Impa was sighing in relief, but she kept her features stoic, trying to lure Zelda even further from her seclusion. "It will be signed now, tomorrow night, and this is definitely the last delay, so you had best recover fast. Everybody's antsy about this treaty and they just want it to be over."

"Wasn't everybody nervous before?"

"Well, yes, but the delays aren't helping. The longer they wait, the more force the opposition gathers."

"How much opposition is there to this treaty?" Impa could see that the young child's interest was peaked.

"A lot."

"Why?"

"Well, princess, if I tell you the story, you have to tell me yours."

"Mine?" Zelda asked, feigning innocence.

"Yes princess, everything that has happened to you in the past two days. I can't help you if you don't tell me."

Zelda puzzled the situation. Perhaps it would be best to tell Impa; it was too big of a secret to keep to herself. And if anyone would believe her, it would be Impa. Still, Ganondorf's threat about the mad house was in the back of her head. But Impa wouldn't put her there, right? Impa cared about her. Just as soon as she convinced herself of this, she agreed to the proposition, so she couldn't change her mind.

"Now then, princess," Impa began, "You know about the past history between the Gerudo and the people of Hyrule?"

"More or less. I know that the Gerudo were thieves and that they were forced out of Hyrule. They deserved it."

"Well, then it's time you learn the full story. Now, if you go back far enough, you'll see that the Hylians and the Gerudo were once the same people, although no one can say for sure why and how they split. But you are more similar to them then any other race."

_Well obviously,_ Zelda thought, uncharacteristically sarcastic, _the other races are half fish and rock!_

"When the two races split, somehow the Gerudo were left with only one male. They would only ever have one male, who would be born every one hundred years. For a long time, the Hylians and the Gerudo lived in relative peace. The Gerudo would inhabit some of the grass land in the field, because their native home, in the desert, was too harsh to grow food. The Hylians offered them military assistance against the hazards of the field. They mated together and thus continued the Gerudo race.

"However, many people began to feel as if the Hylians were simply giving and giving to the Gerudo and getting nothing in return. They began to demand money and taxes, which the Gerudo couldn't give. Eventually tensions grew so high that your great-grandfather declared war on them.

"The Gerudo are fierce warriors, true, but their numbers are small. What could they do when faced with the whole of the Hylian army, which was in its glory days back then. They were driven into the desert, where they could not farm or raise livestock. So they turned to thievery. And since then, both our nations have been fighting petty skirmishes. The constant battle has exhausted our military resources. The army is nothing like what it once was. Now your father has sought peace with the Gerudo, hoping that both kingdoms can rebuild."

Now Zelda could see the folly in the treaty. They must have invited half of the Gerudo nation, if it truly was the size that Impa had implied, into a castle containing only a few, poorly trained troops. It was so clearly a set-up that Zelda wanted to scream. Instead she gathered her wits about her as best as possible and asked for Impa to continue.

"Many people, however, do not want the war to end. They want revenge against the Gerudo for all the lives lost until every one of them is dead. Others disagree with the terms of the treaty. They don't want to help a nation rebuild, which has been a thorn in the side of Hyrule for years."

"Well, I think they're right about the treaty. No Hylian could do what they did," Zelda added.

"Did you listen to my story, girl? Don't you see that both sides must take a little blame?"

"No. They are evil. Why can't you see it? You said yourself, yesterday, that they were nothing like us!"

"And you argued differently." Impa sighed, "Perhaps I have tried to teach you too fast. You are still so very young and it is so easy to forget that. You are so easily swayed." Gently, the woman placed her hand on her charge's hair and began to smooth it down.

"I am not so young, now," Zelda answered, forgetting entirely that she was merely ten years old.

"But now, princess, it is time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain. Tell me your story."

Zelda hesitated at first, but one look at her nursemaid's caring yet scared eyes convinced her to speak. She started slowly with her story, almost embarrassed to explain her vision and her fears. However, once she started talking, she couldn't stop. She told her everything about her dream and about her conversation with Ganondorf. She told Impa about lying to her. As long as she had Impa's arms around her, she could speak freely, although she did almost stop once or twice. She could barely whisper when she reached the point in the discussion about the madhouse. Her cheeks grew wet with tears as she spoke. At the very end of it all, Zelda looked into her caretaker's eyes, ready to see denial or anger, but she was greeted only with sadness.

"Zelda, Zelda," Impa chanted, holding the girl's head close to her breast and rocking her back and forth. "I am so sorry Zelda. I can see now, so much better." She closed her eyes to think, still clutching her charge.

Zelda, however, felt oddly light and free. Her secret was no longer a secret. Now she could do something about it.

"Impa," Zelda began, "what now?"

"Now, _chiat?_ We find a way to help you escape, when the time comes." Impa looked at her carefully.

"What about the treaty?" Zelda exclaimed. "We can't just let it happen!"

"Ah dear. I'm afraid that Ganondorf's goals stretch far beyond the treaty," Impa answered, closing her eyes again to think.

"What do you mean?"

"Remember the glow you saw on his hand, in your vision. That I believe is the mark of the Triforce."

"How can that be?"

"He intends to seize the Triforce and use it. That's how he destroys everything."

Zelda breathed deeply. Everyone knew the legend of the Triforce, and how it symbolized ultimate control and power. "Impa," she asked, "What does the rest of the vision mean?"

Impa kept her eyes, closed, concentrating. "I am not an expert in this field, understand, but I shall try to interpret. Basically, the vision came to you as a warning, firstly of Ganondorf, and secondly of your own choice. You will have to decide which side you fall on, princess. The vision is meant to guide you. The white light symbolized the force that could destroy Ganondorf: the boy and the fairy. They will come from the forest, and they will be the saviors of Hyrule.

"That is all that I can tell." Impa trailed off, seemingly exhausted. Apparently there was magic involved in reading visions, too.

The pair rested silently, for a moment, before Zelda answered, "We can't just let everyone else get hurt." To her surprise, Impa smiled.

"There's the old Zelda back again. I was wondering when you'd decide to fight." Zelda smiled too, and the pair embraced. "Now then, you must not act like we've had this conversation around anybody, especially Ganondorf. You must seem perfectly normal. Can you do that?"

"But Impa, if I act like I'm fine, they might move the treaty back to its original time!"

"Zelda, look outside. It is already 11 o'clock."

Zelda looked through the window to see the moon high in the sky. How had she wasted so much time being scared? They had precious few hours now

"I will go to inform the king that you are well, that your fever has broken and that you are conscious and seemingly alright. I will speak with him about the vision, if I can, but I don't think he shall believe me. He is desperate to see this treaty through, for he doesn't believe that the Hylian army can endure much longer.

"In the morning, we shall see about tracking this forest boy. For now, however, you must rest, in here. Do nothing to arouse anyone's suspicions, you understand?"

"Yes, Impa," Zelda nodded, as she closed her eyes and laid down. Although she had had every intention of breaking her promise and following Impa, she unwillingly dropped off to sleep.

* * *

Impa walked briskly to the king's room, well aware that he would appreciate any news of his daughter, no matter the hour. She entered without knocking, as only she was allowed to do. The king, seated at his desk, did not turn around when she entered, apparently having not even noticed. Sheikah could, of course, be very stealthy when the desired to. Still, it seemed polite to alert him to her presence, so she coughed gently.

The king started in his seat and turned around quickly. Impa was struck by how old he truly looked, and how tired his face had become.

"Ah," the king said, gathering his dignity, "Impa. Do you bring news of my daughter?"

Impa thought that he was speaking a good deal slower than usual, and that his eyes were just a hint out of focus. "Yes, milord. Her fever has broken and she responded well to me for a full hour, before she asked to sleep. I think she shall be healed for tomorrow."  
"Thank the goddesses," the king answered. "Perhaps, all will be well yet. Yes, and I think some sleep now would do us all good. Thank you, Impa, for your kind efforts." He made a move to dismiss her, for he was plainly exhausted.

"Milord, there was one other thing."

"Yes, Impa?"

"She claims, sir, that she has had a vision of sorts."

"Of course Zelda would claim such preposterous things. You know her better than I and even I know that she has a vivid imagination. Good night, Impa." He once again made to dismiss her, but Impa stopped him.

"Milord, I really believe that you should consider this more. It concerns the treaty. She mistrusts Ganondorf, sir, and so do I. I don't believe that she is lying."

"Well, then, if she is not lying, it was a dream. Just a dream. That's all."

"You must listen to me, sir."

"You try my patience, Impa," the king responded, warningly. Impa could see that he would not relent.

"Very well then, sir. Get some sleep."

"That advice I might actually follow." He shut the door, leaving Impa to return to her charge's room, defeated.

* * *

New Author's Note: I just figured out how to fix formatting issues!!! Wow, that was an unneccesarily long process. Also, does anyone know how to get the text from the games, because I want the words to be more or less the same, but all I can do at the moment is find various clips on Youtube and write down what everybody's saying. It's a real waste of time. Any suggestions? Another update should come soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Hey, sorry this took so long. I was sick today so I just sat on the couch and wrote the entire thing. 11 pages. Not bad, if I do say so myself. Anyway, that this chapter is okay. Sometimes Zelda's character seems a little inconsistent, so I'm going to have to work on that. Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy!

* * *

In the morning, Impa woke up before Zelda and took a few moments to plan her speech to Zelda. The sun had just risen and filled the room. When it touched the young princess' face, she stirred and woke up as well. For a few moments, she lay in a half-conscious peace, before the reality of her situation struck her again.

"Impa!" She gasped. "Did you talk to him? Did he believe you?"  
"I did, child, but he did not believe it," Impa admitted deciding that frankness was the best way to explain the situation.

"How couldn't he?" Zelda found herself near tears again. "Why won't he believe me?"

Impa breathed deeply and hugged the girl to her. "It is not your fault. Your father has a lot staked on this treaty. He thinks it's the only way to save the army." Impa didn't mention her concerns about her father's failing health. Could it be that he wanted to finish the treaty as a last act?  
"But it's the truth!"  
"Sometimes, that doesn't matter as much as we'd like it to."

"It's not fair." Even Zelda was struck by how whiny she sounded. She should be fighting, not crying. Why wasn't she stronger?

Impa gently lifted Zelda into a standing position. Slowly, she took her to where a servant had prepared a hot tub of water.

"A bath? Now?"

"Zelda, you need one. You've been sick for two days and worn the same nightdress that whole time."

Grudgingly, Zelda accepted. She let herself be bathed, groomed, and then dressed in a traditional dress. It was long and pink, with a purple apron. She then had to wear her traditional headdress, again, and an unnecessary quantity of jewelry. She was not in the mood to do so, but Impa insisted that it was import to keep up appearances.

"You never know when opportunity may come," the Sheikah warned.

By the time that Zelda was properly prepared, it was mid-morning. The preparations had already begun for the new banquet, at which the treaty would finally be signed. Zelda wanted to vomit.

"Impa," Zelda asked as the pair prepared to finally leave the room. "Do I have to attend the ceremony?"

"Sadly, my dear, I think you must."

"I don't think that I can be in the same room as that man. I'm scared." Zelda was crying again. Why couldn't she stop? How could Impa be so stoic and she be so terrified?

"I understand. But you have to be brave."

"Brave? How can I be brave when I can't stop shaking?"

"Ah, _chiat_, bravery is more than confidence. Bravery is determination. It is within you if you find it." Impa put her hand on Zelda's shoulder.

"Easier said than done." She shrugged her nursemaid's hand off her shoulder.

"Indeed, princess. How about if we compromise?"

"How?" Zelda asked.

"You must go to the signing, that is unavoidable, but you can sit outside during the rest of the ceremony. How about that?"

Zelda smiled and grabbed Impa's hand. "Yes," she said. "I can do that."

* * *

The ceremony consisted of three parts, each of which promised to be long, overly complicated, and above all boring. The first was the loyalty pledge. Both kings would kneel in turn and pledge their eternal loyalty and faith to one another. It was a long process, because each man had to give a long oath, which specified each and every person to whom they owed their loyalty. Part of Zelda was ashamed to think of her father, the king, kneeling to another man. But the entirety of the treaty was dedicated to equality, and proving that their were no hard feelings, so she would have to accept the injury to her pride.

The second part was the pledge of friendship. Both men would each swear to forever and always hold the other people dear to his heart. There would be hugs exchanged and kisses on the cheek, and many other fake displays of affection.

In the third portion, the actual treaty would be signed. Then the food would be served and the banquet would commence. Zelda, to her horror, had had her seat moved next to Ganondorf himself and another woman who she had never before heard of. For that portion, Zelda would have to be present. Until then, she was free to roam, but, as was her way, she could not long resist the urge to find out what was going on. She wanted to be able to watch the proceedings, but still be able to flee.

There was only one conceivable place from which this was possible, and loath as she was to return there, she could see no alternative. If she stayed in plain sight and kept her nursemaid with her, surely she would be safe. Thus, grudgingly, she forced herself to go to the courtyard, Impa following behind. The two set themselves beside a window that looked directly into the hall. The view was obstructed and she could only see the Gerudo party and not her father, but it was better than nothing. Before the official ceremony began, there was much pomp. Each member of the visiting party was given a loud introduction as they entered, as if they were entering a ball room. There were greetings to be exchanged and much useless tripe, which ate up at least an hour, during which time Zelda began to get impatient. It was bad enough that they were signing this treaty, did they have to drag it out like that? Of course, the angry musings of a hidden princess had no effect on the proceedings. The delegates continued their pointless, boring rituals until Zelda was desperate for any sort of distraction.

Finally, just before the first part of the actual ceremony began, a disturbance came. Far down the tunnel leading to the courtyard, the guards were in some sort of an uproar. Three or four of them were running about shouting orders. A few stayed in their posts looking confused. The rest just stumbled around blindly.

_Oh, the glorious, Hylian army, _Zelda thought to herself. _No wonder we need this treaty._ After a few moments, when nothing appeared to be quieting down, Impa turned to her charge.

"Princess, I'm afraid that I should deal with this. Morons, the lot of them are. You will be alright?"

Zelda nodded and turned back to the proceedings before her. If anyone could whip the troops into shape, it would be Impa. Apparently, she had been some sort of Sheikah warrior, before she had sought employment at the castle.

Inside the castle, the loyalty pledge had begun. Her father was kneeling first, promising his allegiance to the Gerudo people. She couldn't hear his words through the glass, but she was sure that they were admirable sentiments. _Not likely to last though, _she reflected. _Not with these people._

Then there was a sound behind her, of footsteps. At first she ignored it, believing it to be Impa, returning. However, the steps were too cautious to be her nurse's and they were too light to be a guard's. Whoever it was, it had chosen to stop at least 10 feet back. For a moment, Zelda's brain froze. She knew that it couldn't be Ganondorf- she could see him through the window-, but it could be a guard of his. Gathering her nerves, she spun around and simultaneously asked, "Who?! Who are you? How did you get past the guards?"

The moment she said it, she froze again. Before her was not a Gerudo guard. Instead it was a boy, no older than she, attempting to stand tall and look heroic. He was about her height, dressed in a silly looking green shirt and belt. From beneath his odd, conical hat (Zelda couldn't help but wonder how it stayed on his head), poked bits of blond hair. He looked at her questioningly, and his blue eyes showed fear, despite his brave façade. Around his head, a little, glowing white ball with a pair of perfectly clear wings floated. She recognized him immediately. It was the boy from her vision. It had to be. That proved that her vision was real, and that everything was going to change soon.

"Oh? What's that?," she began, "Is that… a fairy? Then, are you… are you from the forest!"

She could just detect the tiniest of nods from the boy. Apparently he didn't like to talk. Suddenly, reality seemed all the more oppressive. Here was the boy who could save her or destroy her. Here was her choice. She had to make it, now, and she had to choose correctly. Would she side with the man who she despised, or with this total stranger who was only a boy? The more Zelda considered it, the more she realized that there wasn't a choice. This boy was her only hope, and therefore, he must fight for her. All was lost if he didn't start immediately. _Now, _she wondered, _how to convince him to help?_

Start off, subtle, she decided. Don't scare him off. He had to believe her, or all was lost. How to win his trust? She paused for a moment, to consider what to say. Rapidly, ideas began forming in her head, and suddenly everything she had to do seemed so obvious. The only way to keep Ganondorf from acquiring the Triforce was to get it herself, with the boy's help. He must be the messenger who would collect the stones for her. _Of course,_ she realized. _If he is truly the savior, meant to help me keep the Triforce from Ganondorf, then he would have to have the Spiritual Stone of the Forest. _

Then she scolded herself for getting too far ahead of reality. _One step at a time,_ Zelda reminded herself. _Make sure he's really the one you want._

"Then… then… you wouldn't happen to have… the Spiritual Stone of the Forest, would you?!" she began in her best timid voice. "That green and shining stone… Do you have it?"

Again, the boy gave the tiniest of nods. So he was the right one. Now, Zelda had to make him believe her. It was a subtle game of manipulation that she was playing, and she knew it was unnatural that she would think like that at her age. But she had been taught her whole life how to be a diplomat, surely she could fool one forest boy.

First, he would have to know about her vision- there was no way around that- but she also knew he couldn't know about the whole thing. How could she get him to trust her if he knew how close she had been to surrendering to Ganondorf? No, she would have to lie slightly. _A dream, _she decided, _call it a prophetic dream, not a vision. He would understand that more._ Of course, she would have to alter it a little bit, make it a little more clear-cut for him.

"I had a dream… In the dream, dark storm clouds were billowing over the land of Hyrule. But suddenly, a ray of light shot out of the forest, parted the clouds and lit up the ground. The light turned into a figure holding a shining stone, followed by a fairy. I know this is a prophecy that someone would come from the forest. Yes, I thought you might be the one."

The boy looked at her confusedly, if not a little scared. _No good, you're coming on too strong,_ the princess reflected. Zelda decided to back off a little. She did her best to adopt a friendly, joking voice in her next few sentences.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I got carried away with my story and I didn't even introduce myself! I am Zelda, Princess of Hyrule. What is you name?"

The boy gave the tiniest of squeaks in which she could just hear the word 'Link', or something that sounded like Link anyway.

"Link…strange…it sounds somehow familiar." Zelda had planned the line to reinforce the idea that this was his destiny, that he had to help her, as if he didn't have a choice. However, the more she reflected on it, the more she began to realize that it did, indeed, sound familiar. _Silly,_ she scolded herself,_ you're starting to believe your own tales._ Still, the feeling was hard to shake.

"OK then, Link. I'm going to tell you the secret of the Sacred Realm that has been passed down by the Royal Family of Hyrule. The legend goes like this." Zelda launched into the story without much interest. As a member of the royal family, she knew the legend by heart, having heard it only about a thousand times. Very quickly she related the story of the three goddesses who created the world and how they hid the Triforce, the source of their power in the Sacred Realm. She told of how the Triforce could turn the world into a paradise or a hell in the wrong hands.

Finally, she explained about how the ancients hid the entrance to the Sacred Realm within the Temple of Time. The entrance could only be opened with a few specific keys: the three spiritual stones, the Ocarina of Time, and the Song of Time.

"Did you understand well the story I just told you?" Zelda asked the boy. Once again, she received a tiny little nod, but otherwise he was unresponsive. She was just beginning to wonder how such a stupid, small boy could have been chosen as the hero, when she noted Impa approaching through the tunnel. She would have to hurry.

"I forgot to tell you. I was spying through this window just now. The other element from my dream, the dark clouds, I believe they symbolize that man in there! Will you look through the window at him?"

The boy nodded again, and slowly, timidly, approached the window and leaned his tiny face towards the glass. Inside, he watched as the Gerudo King began his own pledge, kneeling on the ground and swearing fealty and honesty. As he watched, Zelda whispered, "Can you see the man with the evil eyes? That is Ganondorf, the leader of the Gerudos. They hail from the desert far to the west. Though he swears allegiance to my father, I am sure he is not sincere. The dark clouds that covered Hyrule in my dream, they must symbolize that man."

Then, the man jerked his face to the side and glared piercingly at the young boy. Link jerked backwards in fear, looking to Zelda for safety. "What happened? Did he see you?" Zelda asked. Then she decided to try and calm the boy, give him courage. "Don't worry. He doesn't have any idea what we're planning… yet!" Not strictly speaking true, but it didn't matter much. They boy looked marginally less concerned.

"Yes. I told my father about my dream However, he didn't believe it was a prophecy. But I can sense that man's evil intentions! What Ganondorf is after must be nothing less that the Triforce of the Sacred Realm. He must have come to Hyrule to obtain it! And, he wants to conquer Hyrule… no, the entire world!"

The boy looked at her eyes, deeply concerned. "Link," Zelda continued, "Now we are the only ones who can protect Hyrule! Please. Thank you!" She said, without waiting for a response. She didn't expect that she would get anything but a tiny little nod from that boy. Why didn't he talk? Still, she continued, adding in a few more sentences about her fear and desperation, just for good measure.

"I… I am afraid. I have a feeling that man is going to destroy Hyrule. He has such terrifying power! But it's fortunate that you have come. We must not let Ganondorf get the Triforce! I will protect the Ocarina of Time with all my power! He shall not have it! You go find the other two Spiritual Stones! Let's get the Triforce before Ganondorf does, and then defeat him!"

The boy looked slightly stirred by her speech, which was not necessarily good. He could very easily just run off and do something stupid, and Zelda couldn't do anything to help him. Well, maybe she had one favor to offer him. "One more thing. Take this letter. I'm sure it will be helpful to you."

It was a simple letter, on patterned stationary, with Zelda's insistence that he be allowed to enter anywhere written on it. The boy stared at the letter as if he had never seen paper before. Zelda looked around, only to find Impa waiting at the entrance to the tunnel. She gave the princess a tiny gesture of recognition, and then adopted her roughest façade. No one would dare mess with her when she looked like that.

The boy finally finished assessing the letter, and he looked back to the princess for further instruction. _Hmm, _she reflected,_ better not get him thrown in the dungeon._ "My attendant will guide you out of the castle. Don't be afraid to talk to her."

The boy nodded once more, and slowly turned around, to face Impa. He walked up to her, and Zelda, in spite of all of her training, listened in to the conversation.

"I am Impa of the Sheikahs. I am responsible for protecting Princess Zelda. Everything is exactly as the Princess foretold. You are a courageous boy. You are heading out on a big, new adventure, aren't you? My role in the Princess's dream was to teach a melody to the one from the forest. This is an ancient melody passed down by the Royal Family. I have played this song for Princess Zelda as a lullaby ever since she was a baby. There is mysterious power in these notes. Now listen carefully."  
Impa began to play a series of three repetitive notes which Zelda recognized instantly. _What is she doing?_ the princess wondered. I didn't seem remotely relevant to the quest. More like an invasion of her privacy.

But, before she could ask, Impa continued. "If the castle soldiers find you, there will be trouble. Let me lead you out of the castle"

Impa instantly disappeared with the boy, using an old Sheikah trick, which she had promised to teach Zelda one day. Zelda simply waited in the courtyard, watching again through the window, until Impa returned without the boy.

"I have sent the boy to Death Mountain. You did well, princess," Impa began.

"You think so?"

"I do. You convinced a poor, lost boy that he had a quest. Granted the boy was a little foolish and scared, but you did well, nonetheless."

"Really?" Zelda turned to Impa, slightly accusatorily. "Personally, I think it's hopeless."

"Hopeless? However could you say that?"

"Easily. The boy is stupid! Admit it, he won't even talk!" Zelda crossed her arms and sat down in the grass.

"_Chiat_, do you really think that talking is the measure of intelligence?"

"He's a mute fool, is what he is. He looked so scared of everything."

"Well, consider this, princess. He's a lost boy who just left his home. You're a princess. How would you react?"

"Still, I think it's hopeless."

"Perhaps, princess, but then, there is no use dwelling on the fact."

"It isn't fair."

"Of course not."

Zelda sighed, and Impa nestled herself next to the princess.

"You know," the nursemaid began, "there are still a few hours before you must go to the signing."

"And.."

"And… I think now would be a good time to begin the magical training that I promised you. After all, we might not have much time."

"Really?"

Impa nodded, and told the princess to stretch out her hands. "We begin with summoning energy. It is an internal struggle. Using energy to accomplish a task is a whole different matter. However, learning to raise it within oneself and focus it, is fairly simple."

Impa directed Zelda to focus herself, and pull on a tiny wisp of magic that lived within her. The princess was made to close her eyes and look for a little spark, which Impa said dwelled somewhere above her stomach. When she closed her eyes she could just sense it's presence, and, by putting all of her concentration into the effort, she could barely draw a little piece of this spark into her hand. Beyond that, though, she could do nothing.

The efforts began to make her dizzy as she pulled again and again, trying to force the little bit of energy that she sensed inside of her to obey her whims.  
"Remember, princess, it is a strange balance you must achieve with your magic. You must break it to your will, but you also must work with it. It will take practice before it will listen to you.

"It's so confusing, Impa," Zelda whined.

"True," Impa added unsympathetically. "Try again."

She was sweating and losing energy fast. Just as she was beginning to hate Impa for ever introducing her to the subject, her nursemaid tapped her on the shoulder. "That is enough for today, you will exhaust yourself. Come, straighten yourself up, we will be needed momentarily."

Zelda did as she was bade, though Impa had to help her stand the first time.

"You will be wobbly on your feet for a few hours. Now Zelda, you must promise me not to try and control this energy unless I give the go-ahead and am standing there with you. It is too dangerous." Impa looked seriously into the princess' eyes. "You can't really imagine yet all of the risks that this energy poses, because right now it won't even listen to you. But once it begins to, you pave the way for much risk."

Zelda agreed readily, not really considering the consequences. After all, she was too tired to summon anything right now, and what exactly would be the use of trying? For all her premature intelligence, the princess was never one to consider the long-term consequences of her actions. Then, the pair walked off, hand in hand, to go to the dreaded signing.

* * *

The hall was in an uproar, though not unexpectedly. The pledge of friendship had just finished, and it was time for the final treaty to be signed. Servants rushed back and forth, rearranging tables and chairs, bringing forth documents and ink and everything else that could conceivably be necessary. In the intermittent chaos, Zelda seated herself beside Ganondorf, in the seat marked with a place card bearing her name. He didn't spare her even a glance as she sat herself in her chair, although she found that she couldn't stop staring at him. Any second, she expected him to reach out and throttle her. But he didn't. He behaved like the perfect diplomat, even as the treaty was placed before him. Without a word, he picked up a pen and signed his name upon the parchment. Her father did likewise.

For a minute there was silence, and then there were cheers from the audience. The Great War was over, and all was well. Zelda applauded obediently, as she knew that she should. However, she felt inclined to scream watching as she saw some noble-woman weeping with joy.It's a lie, she wanted to scream, but she knew she couldn't.

Looking subtly to the side, she noted that Ganondorf had a smug expression. He didn't even spare her a glance. Clearly he couldn't care less about her schemes, or else, he wanted to give the impression that he didn't care. If she could have, she would have placed her head in her hands and groaned. This was all so confusing.

Soon, the uproar had died down and food was brought out. It was truly a spectacular feast given the kitchen had prepared it three times, since the banquet kept getting delayed. There were roast geese and flummery topped with cinnamon and over a hundred quails. Zelda herself had never been fond of quail, but still, the odor was tantalizing. The centerpiece was a huge pie, almost as wide as Zelda was tall, filled entirely with live blackbirds. At the right moment, the chef would cut the crust and hundreds of live, chirping birds would fly from the pie, creating a beautiful spectacle. Then, the pie would be cleaned up and an actual, edible desert would replace it. This was exactly the sort of extravagance that many people criticized in the Royal Family, but Zelda herself was entranced. She had never figured out exactly how they made that pie, or how they captured so many birds.

Other than that, though, the feast was largely as expected. Her father and Ganondorf immediately launched into a conversation about something or another that Zelda didn't entirely understand. The other Gerudo to her right was entirely stoic, and Zelda couldn't even catch her name. No one else at the head table even spared her a look until about an hour into the feast, when most people had already eaten their fill.

"So," Zelda overheard Ganondorf inquire, "I understand that your daughter is in better health."

"Oh, yes," her father answered, "much better. The physician supposes it was just the heat in the hall. Our women have always had the weakest constitutions. Her mother was the same way."

At this, Zelda, scared as she was, bristled. She was not weak! By no means. She was even learning magic! What had her father ever learned? Still, she controlled herself just enough to hide her anger.

"Have you met my daughter, yet, Lord Ganondorf?" her father continued, gesturing to Zelda in an offhand, almost rude manner.

"No, I have not had the pleasure." Ganondorf turned to her, and tried to kiss her hand in greeting. Zelda flinched noticeably, knocking slightly into the woman beside her, earning reproachful look from her and a curious look from her father. Ganondorf's eyes flashed a warning look at her, telling her to play along, and she reluctantly gave him her fingers. He accepted them and pressed his lips to her flesh, before returning to his previous conversation.

Zelda's heart was pounding hard, though she willed it to stop. She tried her hardest to look at the man before her without fear. How much she wanted to be stronger than him. But she wasn't. He had her trapped and she hated it.

"You truly have a lovely daughter," Ganondorf continued to her father.  
"Thank you, sir. She so resembles her mother, in more ways then one. I don't mind telling you, she has the same disrespect for the rules," the King told Ganondorf as if they were old chums and as if his daughter wasn't sitting right next to him. Perhaps he was drunk. Slowly, Zelda's fear began to fade now that Ganondorf's attention was distracted from her, to be replaced slightly by anger.

"Most start out that way," Ganondorf answered neutrally. "I myself used to believe that I could change everything. Alas, I have had to content myself with my limited power."

"Still, at least you're a man. A man with power. Zelda, she, well, she has no business interfering. You know what her last crusade was? Cats! She thought that she could help all the lost cats in world." Her father began to laugh. He picked up a fork and clumsily stabbed at the remainder of the food on his plate. Yes, any reasonable person could recognize that he was definitely drunk, as he was usually such a stoic and dignified man. Ganondorf saw this instantly, and was slightly repulsed by his ravings. Zelda, however, did not notice it. She was angry and humiliated that her father would tell such a story to her enemy. She didn't know why it mattered to her that Ganondorf not laugh at her, but it mattered very much. She wanted it all to stop.

She surprised even herself that her true anger was not directed at Ganondorf but at her father. Her anger began to swirl around in her head. _He_ didn't believe her visions. _He _called her a liar. Now, he was telling everyone all about her. He was telling _Ganondorf_ of all people. Without entirely realizing what she was doing, Zelda reached into herself and pulled on that little spark that Impa had shown her. She didn't know what she intended to happen. She was just angry. She was angry that her father would do this. She was angry that she had to trust the hero. She was angry that she had gotten a vision in the first place and started this whole thing. She was angry that she was helpless.

Zelda didn't even notice as her father's fork began to glow red and heat up. In fact, she didn't snap back to reality until her father threw down his fork and shouted in surprise. Everyone at the table turned to look at him. Zelda, her concentration broken, instantly relinquished the magic, and the fork returned to normal. Suddenly, with her momentum gone, Zelda was overcome by an exhaustion more powerful than any that she had felt in her time with Impa. Meanwhile, her father picked up the offending implement curiously, inspecting it for any signs of heat. He found nothing.

"Well, that was… unusual," he said as he turned the fork over again. "Must have been my imagination." If he suspected something, Zelda would never know. The princess turned around, and saw Impa's furious glare. She knew!

Just then, there was a loud bang outside of the hall. People everywhere looked about in confusion, looking for the source. Nothing was confirmed until a few guards rushed into the room. One silently tapped Impa's shoulder, distracting her from her wrath. Zelda could just hear his whispered requests for her help. With one last look at the princess, Impa nodded her assent and followed the man out.

"There now," the king addressed the whole room. "All will be well with Impa in charge." This was the only explanation he offered, because, in truth, he was confused as the rest of them.

Zelda, against her well, found herself closing her eyes. How had she tired herself out so fast? All she did was heat up a fork! Within a few moments, she could barely hold up her head. With the last of her energy, she listened to Ganondorf as he noticed her falling asleep.

"Well, sir, look at your daughter. I'm afraid that she just may have drunk too much wine."

The king glanced at his nearly unconscious daughter. I suppose so. Blast, why did Impa have to leave? I'll call a maid, and have her brought back to her chambers."

"No need, sir," Ganondorf interjected a little too quickly. "I must retire soon anyway, I find myself exhausted by today's proceedings. I will take her."

The king looked vaguely scandalized. "But that is quite unorthodox."  
"Do not fear. I mean nothing but the best. Besides, someone will have to carry her, by the looks of things. I will leave her there, and you may send up a maid to tend her." Were the king in a sober state, he might have objected more, he might have asked how Ganondorf could conceivably know where Zelda's chambers were, he might have seen a hundred dangerous things about the situation, but as it was, his mind was rather clouded, and he could hardly judge properly.

"Yes, well then. I shall see you tomorrow?"

"Of course, milord." With that Ganondorf gently slipped his arms under the princess, who was unable to even move, let alone object. Her mind was slowing down, until she could barely formulate her thoughts in her own head. Subconsciously she knew that she should be alarmed, but she just couldn't muster up the emotion to do it. She didn't even groan as he picked her up and carried her out of the banquet hall.

Ganondorf knew the path to her room perfectly, and she didn't think to question why. He carried her there without word. And it wasn't until he had entered her room and lain her down on her bed that he said anything at all. Slowly, he drew magic from within himself, and focused a little branch of it. He placed his hand on her forehead and carefully transferred a piece of his spark to her. Instantly, Zelda responded to the shock. She sat up immediately and drew away from Ganondorf, against the wall.

"That was stupid of you, princess," he told her. "In so many ways."

"What happened?" she asked.

"What happened? You expended your magic. All of it! Do you know what happens then? Your very life energy goes in to fill the gap. You felt the paralysis tonight, didn't you? Some nursemaid of yours, by the way, leaves when you're helpless like that. Do you know how dangerous that is? If I hadn't been there to revive you, you could have died. "  
"What do you care?"

"Even I can recognize a valuable tool. Of course, if would be a real shame to lose that tool because of something so silly as a raving drunk," he spat.

"Don't call my father that!"

"And now you defend him! Did you not just try to burn him?"

"Get out!" she ordered, but he made no signs of obeying.

"Now, now, this brings up another point. You didn't mention you were studying magic."  
"Why would I have told you?"

"No reason. Of course, you are an amateur. Worse, you're an amateur with an ego and no control." He looked the girl up and down twice, before adding. "I brought you here to warn you. Do not mess in matters which you cannot hope to control. And never challenge me with magic. I could squash you like an insect if it came down to it. Perhaps you ought not to trust that Impa of yours either. I didn't think that she could be so cruel, but lo and behold." From where he stood over her, he dwarfed her with his height. "It would be a shame to lose you like that princess. I take it you have not reconsidered my offer?"

"Never," she answered.

"Very well, then. Goodnight. Oh, and do try and act drunk when the maid comes in. I told your father that you had indulged in the wine." Without another word, he turned around and left the princess in the darkness to wait for the maid.

_Is it true? _Zelda wondered, _Did Impa really leave me to die?_

* * *

It was not a maid who finally came, but Impa. Clearly the few hours of fruitless investigating for the source of the noise had done nothing to improve her temper. She stormed into the room, ready to revive Zelda herself and then kill her. However, she was greeted by Zelda sitting up in her bed, looking quite terrified.

"Impa," the princess gasped, as Impa stood right beside her.

"What the Hell were you thinking? Do you know what you just did? You almost killed yourself. Thank the Goddesses you stopped just in time! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?" And so Impa ranted for a good ten minutes, during which time Zelda was almost in tears, until the attendant finally realized how very odd it was that Zelda was responding at all.

"Who revived you?" the woman asked.

"What?" Zelda responded, feigning ignorance.

"Don't play that with me!" Impa shouted, reaching out and slapping the girl. "Someone gave you a spark and revived you. Who?"

Zelda sighed and looked down at her feet, before mumbling, "Ganondorf."

"What?"

"Ganondorf."

"I heard you the first time! Why would he revive you?"  
"I don't know! He just said that if he didn't do it, I could have died! Why did you leave me if I could have died, Impa?" Now she was crying.

Impa looked at her. "The man knows nothing. You weren't that far gone. I wouldn't have left you to die. Whatever game he's playing, you sure fell for it." Impa sat down beside her, unsure of whether to slap, strangle, or hug her charge.

"Really?" Zelda accused, "Well, then, why did you leave me there like that?"

"I wanted to make you feel the risks of your actions! Never die, princess! I would never, ever want that."

"Look, just get away from me!" Zelda reached out and shove her caretaker.

"How dare you! Do you honestly trust him, the man who offered to throw you in a mad house, over me?"

"I don't know what to believe!"

"Believe me!"  
"Get out!"

"I will not get out. Zelda, you have to listen to me."

"I am the princess of this country and you will obey my orders! Now get out!"

"Very well princess, you will defend yourself, teach yourself magic, tell yours fears to an empty room, or better yet, to those empty-headed serving-girls that sleep on the floor. Then see how you feel."

Impa turned around and left the room. Zelda sat on her bed, alone, weeping heavily. Maybe she was too hard. After all, couldn't she trust Impa? But her pride would not let her follow her nursemaid.

Meanwhile, Impa could not bring herself to abandon her charge, angry as she was. She took a place on the other side of the princess' door, watching and waiting for any threat to the girl. Her Sheikah training let her stay up through the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.

* * *

In the morning, the silence between Zelda and Impa was unbroken. Her attendant followed her around and did her duties to the minimum, ensuring that, while the princess was physically safe and comfortable, there was constantly an awkward silence that preyed on her mind. Deep down, Zelda knew that she should apologize. She knew that she was a moron for letting her enemy convince her to hate her friends. But for some reason, she just couldn't bring herself to say the words. Perhaps she felt that if she could hold her own in this one, small, stupid fight, then she could hold her own in the larger one. Perhaps she was just being stubborn. Either way, she spent the next few days in such a severe state of depression and misery that her father had begun to consider consulting a doctor, and even Ganondorf had given \her funny looks.

Then, amidst all of this, Zelda remembered the boy in green. The hopeless, lost, little boy who she had sent out with the fate of the world on his shoulders. At first, she assumed that it would be an easy errand: go to Death Mountain and Zora's Domain and explain that the princess needed the stones. Perhaps there would be an argument involved, but if he showed them that he already had one stone, then none of the other races would risk inflaming the Royal Family. It should have taken five days at maximum.

But then, a week passed.

And then two.

Soon Zelda began to pray for the boy, even before praying for anyone else. Every waking hour she checked at least ten times for any sign of his strange hat out in the field. She even checked the roster of prisoners in the dungeon, in hopes of finding anyone matching his description.

Soon, her fears began to invade her at night. She began to whimper in her sleep, faced with visions of the horrid obstacles that she had sent him. Once she dreamed that he was face to face with a gigantic lizard, and only a few inches away from plummeting into a hole filled with lava. Another time she dreamed that there were electric jellyfish trying to sting him, while he ran, realizing that his sword had no effect. Once, strangest of all, she dreamed that he was being berated by a particularly obnoxious Zora girl. Try as she might, she could not make heads or tail of her dreams. Perhaps Impa could, but she was not willing to ask her.

So, the time passed in a strange state of outward calm and inner turmoil. Desperately, Zelda began to look for anything to relieve the pressures that she was feeling. She tried to read, and when she couldn't focus, she tried ripping a few pages out of the books and burning them, until a maid forcibly stopped her. Then, she took up other arts, such as sewing, before laying them down almost immediately afterwards. Once, she had even gone outside and run around in circles until she was sweating and exhausted, ignoring the odd looks that people gave her. A few times, she had considered trying to raise the magic energy, but she dismissed this idea as stupid. She felt that if she did not do something, then she would go mad. Then, she corrected herself. She would not go mad. She would not face the mad house. Still, it was a hard fear to ignore.

Impa, of course, saw all of this. She saw how Zelda's face became more pinched and her voice became a little shriller, but largely ignored it. Beneath, her stoic façade, she too was losing her mind to worry, although she was much better than the princess at hiding it. She too worried about the fairy boy, but her loyalty to the princess kept her from seeking him out. Watching her charge, she knew that the girl wanted to apologize. Impa resolutely believed that it was entirely Zelda's fault, and that, if she herself had any apologizing to do, then she would do it only after Zelda had made amends.

So, for fifteen days there was an uncomfortable silence. And for fifteen days, Zelda could do nothing but worry, all by herself. If ever anyone tried to inquire as to the state of the princess' well-being, they would receive only glares and stony silence. Finally, her father decided that he must do something, or else risk losing his daughter forever.

* * *

"Zelda," her father began as his daughter entered the room. "I am glad you could join me."

Zelda nodded and curtseyed respectively, before approaching her father. He noted her formality and instantly darkened slightly. Was she still the same girl who had barged into his study regularly not a month before? There used to be times when he wished that Zelda were more obedient and that she would obey all of the standards and propriety for her age, as he had been forced to. But now, seeing this cold, rational being before him, he began to regret his decision. Perhaps he was just too old to deal with this sort of thing.

"Zelda," he continued, "I have noticed some odd things about your behavior as of late. Would you care to discuss them with me?"

"I have done only my best, sir, to appease the situation. If my manner has offended, then perhaps-"

He cut her off. "Your manner has not offended, exactly, my daughter. But rather, it seems as though something were troubling you. Something large."  
"Milord, I can tell you only that I am faced with the common stresses of day to day life. Nothing that I cannot handle."

The king sighed and rubbed his eyes with the base of his palm. "Zelda," he began, "we are alone. Pretend for a moment, that there need not be any pomp and circumstance between us. Pretend that I am just your father. What would you say then?"

Zelda hesitated. She really wanted to hug him and to cry and to tell him everything, but something held her back. She couldn't trust anyone with her secrets. Not Impa, not her father, no one.

"Father, I can tell you only what I have already said. If I knew something specific which you looked for, perhaps I could be of some assistance."

"Zelda, Impa told me some rather disturbing things a while back. Stories of you having visions and the like. Naturally, I dismissed them, and you seemed to be fine for a few days, so I considered the matter to be settled."

Zelda remembered full well how she had striven to keep up her appearances during the banquet and not hint that she knew about Ganondorf.

"Then, you fell into this depression. I had heard that you and Impa had had a tiff, and I thought that when it all blew over, you would be yourself again. But you aren't. Now please tell me what exactly is troubling you."

Zelda sighed, and though it nearly broke her heart, she shook her head.

"Very well then, daughter," the king answered. He sighed again, and then spontaneously reached out and wrapped his daughter in a tight embrace. She answered, squeezing him so tight that he thought that he would snap in too. Suddenly, his daughter seemed to come to the realization as well, about how old her father truly was. Gently, she reached up and traced the wrinkles in his forehead with her fingertip. Then, she reached up, and, in a moment of power, kissed her father gently on the crest of his brow. Then, she let the tears fall from her eyes for a moment, before she turned and left his study.

The king sat perfectly still for a moment or two after Zelda had left, and then he opened the door and turned to a nearby guard.

"Fetch me Impa," he ordered in a clipped tone, and the retreated back into his office.

* * *

Impa truly didn't know why she was being summoned. Possibly the king had heard about her spat with Zelda and meant to order her into her place- he did so spoil his daughter- or else there were matters to discuss with the troops and the guards and the arrangements for ridding the castle of all of the diplomats who had waited for two weeks after the treaty signing before even considering vacating (Ganondorf himself had only left the day before). When she walked into the study, she was expecting either a reaction of anger or of detachment. The last thing that she had expected or wanted was to see the king crying.

"Sir?" Impa asked.

"Ah, Impa," the king responded, trying to straighten himself up for his arrival.

"What is troubling you, sir?"

"A great deal many things, Impa," he answered, "A great deal more than you can hope to assist with."

Impa was tempted to ask why he had called her then, but she restrained herself, seeing the pain in her lord's eyes.

"Sir? Is it Zelda?"

"Zelda, and more. I'm scared, Impa."

"Scared?"

"Of so many things. I'm sorry, this is silly of me. I should be the strong one, at a time like this, yes?"

"You don't need to be strong all the time. At least, tell me your troubles, that I might assist."

"Yes, yes, perhaps, you're right. You will laugh at me, of course. You see, when you last came to me with talk of visions, I thought that you were crazy, or that you were merely exaggerating the girl's nightmares. I thought that she would perhaps inherit the gift from her mother, but never so soon. I thought that we would have a few more years.

"And then, I began to dream. That's what you said it was like, Impa, wasn't it? Like a dream, except you can't remember falling asleep? Well, perhaps I just dozed off, but I had the most frightening dreams." He paused, and his voice took on a distant quality. " I dreamt that I was dead, and that there was nothing. No pain, no fear, no light at the end of the tunnel, just peace. I wasn't alarmed as long as I slept, but then I awoke. Then I was scared, so scared, and I can't explain it.

"Sir, death is natural. You shouldn't fear it. Perhaps this vision was sent to comfort you, that you may look forward and not need fear Hellfire and Damnation. Perhaps it was a symbol of peace."

"Pray to the Goddesses that you are right. No, I shouldn't be so scared. But look at me. I am old. I am dying. Even Zelda knows it. I don't have much time left, and I want to fix everything before I go.

"Sir, you cannot fix everything. Not in one lifetime. Perhaps, you will be reborn, and then you can see that your efforts will bear fruits through your daughter and her children. You will see then, that there is meaning to your sacrifices."

"Maybe, Impa, maybe. But promise me this, Impa. Whatever happens, promise me that you will love Zelda. Whatever happens."

"Good King, nothing could ever make me stop loving that girl. Whatever happens. No matter how thick headed she is." The king cracked a smile at this. Impa continued, "Even if I cannot be with her forever, I will love her all through this life and into the next."

"Good, good. And one more promise."  
"Anything, milord."

"Promise me that," he began, his breath becoming raspy. "That you will never stop loving me."

"I will love you forever, my king. You are my oldest and truest friend. And so does Zelda."

"Ah yes, I can see that so well now. So long since we grew up together, eh? So many summers, passed in just the blink of an eye. Strange how I never noticed it before. All that beauty."

"Yes, sir," Impa responded, "So much beauty." With that, she helped him to settle himself in his chair, before leaving him, to fetch a servant who would assist him to his chambers.

"Good night, Impa," he said as she left.

"Good night, my friend," she answered.

As Impa left, she knew that the king would die soon. There was nothing left for him in this life, no last reason to cling to his fragile body. If he were lucky, she thought, then he would die before Ganondorf had a chance to kill him. He would die believing that he had created peace.

* * *

The following morning, the king was found with a high fever. None of the physicians had the slightest idea what had happened to him, nor did they have any idea how to assist him. While their positions dictated that they do their best to help him, they entered the sickroom fully knowing that the situation was hopeless. Everyone seemed to have accepted that it was the king's time to go.

Zelda dressed herself as best as she could, in a clean, pink dress with her hair tied back with a neat ribbon. The head physician had agreed to give her one short visit, but only one, in order to keep her healthy. Zelda surprised herself by being so calm as she walked into her father's room, which looked darker than usual. Her father looked pale and small, compared to how she had always seen him. Now, on the bed, outlined against the dark purple sheets, he looked so lost and so insecure. Gently, Zelda walked up to him, not feeling sadness, strangely, but a slow sort of acceptance. Somehow, she had known when she left him that he would die soon. It didn't bother her like she expected it too.

"Father?" she inquired gently, approaching the bed slowly. Gently, he took her fingers in his hand, but he dared not let her approach any closer.

"Zelda?" he rasped. "Ah, my child. I am not well."

"I know. It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? How can you say that, my dear?"  
"It doesn't matter because we cannot change it. I came to tell you that I love you."  
"I know, Zelda. I know. And you're right. It doesn't matter. My time is almost gone. I love you too my dear."

Zelda waited for tears to flow, but they didn't come. So too did the king wait for his own eyes to water, and yet, they too were dry. Somehow, the atmosphere in the room was peaceful. It was time to die. And that was all there was to it.

"Zelda, my princess, know this, before I leave. I will always love you."

"And I you."

"And I only wanted the absolute best for you. I wanted peace and I wanted joy for you. Whatever mistakes I made, I only wanted the best. Will you forgive me for whatever goes wrong in the future?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ah Zelda, sweet trusting Zelda. You will see it all in time. Just swear to me that you will forgive me, when the time comes."

"I swear it, Father."

"I love you, Zelda."

"I love you, too."

With that, the physician ushered the young child out of the room and resumed his duties. Zelda walked in apparent peace for a few steps, before she realized that she would never see her father again. Then, the long-awaited tears flew from her eyes, and it was all she could do to silence her sobs so that her father would not hear her crying. Once she reached her own chambers, she let her sobs fly, throwing herself upon the floor. They wracked her form as she screamed and cried at the grief and injustice of the world.

"You did well, princess." Zelda hadn't noticed when Impa had entered the room, yet she did not jerk up to see her. She stayed crouched low, until Impa walked around to the girl and lifted her chin. "You gave a dying man comfort and love. You proved to him that you would be alright and that you didn't need him to go on. You gave him the freedom to die. Thank you, Zelda."

The princess and the Sheikah looked each other in the eye, and in a second, all was forgiven, in such the way that only true grief can inspire. In the next second, Zelda was curled up against her guardian, sobbing her heart out.

"How can you say that I don't need him? I do. I need him so much."

Impa didn't respond immediately, but rather, sat there considering what her charge was asking. Yes, Zelda needed her father. But she could live without him, and she would find love elsewhere. Yes, the kingdom needed him as well, but it would find leadership elsewhere, possible in Zelda herself. But the king needed relief, he needed to be free again. And that he could never find elsewhere. To Impa, it was clear-cut. Death was best for the king, now that he had done all he could. But to Zelda, it was a devastating blow, and there was no way to make a child that young understand the pain her father felt.

"Your father… will join your mother now. And he will be happy. And you will find your own joy here, so you too may be happy, until the day comes that you may join them as well. Until then, rejoice in the memories of the past, and live life to its fullest."

"But I don't want him to go," Zelda hiccupped into Impa's shirt.

"No one does, Zelda, but it is his time. Just love that you had time with him and time to say good-bye," Impa answered, yet even as she tried to impart her words of wisdom to her charge, she found herself choking down a sob of her own. The king and her had grown up together, yet, as Sheikah were blessed with extraordinarily long life-times, she had been forced to watch as her oldest friend grew up and became aged without her. Such pain was the price of friendship.

The two hugged each other for a while, though neither could say exactly how long, until all of their tears dried up. Then, Impa gently sat her charge up and wiped her face clean, before telling her, "Whatever happens, Zelda, I love you, and so does your father."

"I love you too, Impa."

Impa stood up slowly, but Zelda caught her hand. "Impa," the girl began, "I'm so scared."

"Zelda, we all are. Without your father, there will be many hard times ahead, and much to sort out."

"Not of that Impa," Zelda answered as she stiffened. Then she looked around, her face pale with fright. "I can feel that something is wrong. Very wrong."

"How so, princess?" Impa asked, looking concernedly back at the girl.

"I don't know." Zelda stood up and walked to the one window in her room, gazing out over the castle grounds and, beyond them, Hyrule field. "But it's like there's something off. Like I'm looking at the world through a cracked window pane that's about to shatter. Does that make any sense?"  
"Not really, _chiat_," Impa answered, responding with the first hint of a smile for days. "Perhaps you are imagining things."

"That's what my father said," Zelda answered quickly, and, if Impa was taken aback by the remark, she did not show it.

"Does your premonition tell you what is wrong?"

"No." Zelda looked back at her guardian, "Do you think it could be Ganondorf?"

"I don't doubt it."

"Will he attack tonight?"

Impa looked at the moon. It was full, and high in the sky. There was too much light for a surprise attack- the castle guards would note any intruders too fast. "No, not tonight. But soon. He must be gathering forces, or doing something large for you to sense him."

"Yes. Impa do you sense anything?"

"Nothing at all."

Zelda walked back to her bed and sat down. "Impa, why can I feel him and no one else?"

"I couldn't begin to hazard a guess. But, there must be a reason. Perhaps you could sense him because you are destined to stop him."

"Maybe." There was a heavy silence between the pair, before Zelda asked, "Do you think the boy in green will make it back?"

"I think so princess. There is a destiny for him, too. One which brought him to you."

"Well, then, I hope it's for the best."

"I'm sure it is."

Then, Impa lay the child down to sleep, and curled up beside her. Yet, Zelda could not sleep easily. She struggled with emotions running through her mind. There was fear, she realized, but something else troubled her. It took her a long time before she realized it was guilt. But what she had to be guilty about, she couldn't fathom. Dismissing it as foolish, she finally dropped off to sleep.

* * *

The next day passed without note. And the next. And the one after that. Her father lingered on, just barely holding on to his life. One day, he dropped off into a coma, and everyone expected to see him dead within the week. Zelda refused to see him, though she herself couldn't say why. Simply the idea of seeing her father, the man she loved, unable to even sense her presence was much worse than the idea of seeing him dead. Slowly, she began to wish that he would die, because nothing was worse than this awful state of living death in which he persevered. Still, she prayed for him nightly.

There were Council proceedings to determine who would rule. Naturally, Zelda was next in line, as there was no male heir, but a regent must be appointed to rule in her stead until she was old enough to rule and be married. Many nobles had put their names forth, or the names of children and relatives, in hopes that they could manipulate the post into a permanent position. Zelda, however, remained strangely distant from the affairs. No Council member wished to listen to a small girl, nor consult her opinion, and Zelda did not wish to give it.

So Zelda, besides her compulsive searches for the green-boy as she had taken to calling him, lived life as usual. No one suspected that anything was at all amiss, until night on the fourth day. Zelda had complained of chills all day- her standard excuse- and so she was permitted to retire earlier than usual. As Impa had other duties, being partly responsible for the guards, she was left unattended for a rare moment, with the intent that she sleep and recover. However, she chose to take advantage of this time by reading. Zelda had always had a miraculous capacity to lose herself in books of any nature. This evening she had selected a history tome which, to anyone else, may have seemed deathly boring, but to Zelda was a fascinating tale. History had always been Zelda's favorite subject. She enjoyed the thrill of losing herself in stories of the distant past and men long since dead. It was much more interesting than the present.

Zelda, so wrapped up as she was in her texts and stories, did not notice as the dusk turned to night, except once, when she was forced to light a candle in order to continue her studies. The princess did not even change her attire for bed. Impa did not seek out her charge at the accustomed time, for, Zelda assumed, there were probably difficulties arranging the guards for that evening.

Then, out of nowhere, she felt a pang in her stomach. Or rather, just below her stomach, just where she had found the spark of magic a few weeks before. It was not a painful jolt but an uncomfortable sensation, as though the spark sought attention. _Look at me,_ it seemed to scream, and Zelda found herself wondering what caused this. It was not the vague premonitions and feelings that had plagued her a few nights ago. It was no longer the sensation of seeing the world through broken glass. Instead, it was a pang of fear, a moment of panic. She knew instantly that the glass had broken. She was feeling the cold, harsh reality. Ganondorf was coming. Now.

The feeling got worse and worse, and she knew that she did not have much time, if any. She did not know what forces he would be bringing, if any, but she knew that she must be out of there by the time he arrived, and that she must keep the ocarina safe at all costs.

But that was all she knew. Beyond that, all she could do was run.

As fast as she could, she hitched up her skirts and escaped her room, running down the hallways to where she knew the ocarina was kept. It was not kept in the treasury, for that was far too obvious a location. Well-guarded as it was, it would not be too hard for a large group of people to abscond with it. Rather, a replica had been placed there, simply for good measure, to fool any daring thieves. Then, a second vault had been created, within the castle itself. Only Zelda and a few others were privy to its location

Unfortunately, it was located about as far from the exit as was physically possible. Cursing herself for not considering retrieving it earlier, Zelda hurried as fast as she could, kicking off her slippers in order to move faster. The vault had been surreptitiously placed inside the servants' quarters, in the most repulsive place that could be found. Perhaps it did not suit the dignity of the instrument, but it was good for its protection. There were very few places which repelled even the servants.

The "rat-trap" was one of them. It was not formally called the "rat-trap" of course, but Zelda didn't know its formal name. It's purpose had been lost in time (people theorized that it had once been a bed-room of some kind) and now it was remarkable only for its unusually large quantities of rats. There was hole in one of the walls which directly connected to the biggest rat den possibly in the whole nation. It was impossible to eradicate the nest because no one knew how far down it went. Thankfully, not many rats left the "rat-trap", as there was no urgency about solving the issue. Everyone simply avoided the room, making it the ideal location for the Ocarina of Time. No one could say for sure how many rats there were. Most guesses were around thirty, all in all, though at any given time only fifteen might be about. Still, there were tales told by boys in the darkness of a hundred, maybe two hundred rats. Zelda had always dismissed this as a fairytale, but now, she couldn't be sure.

Zelda hated rats. She loathed them, everything about them, from their tiny little feet to their pointed noses. Under ordinary circumstances, however, she was not afraid of them. She had absolutely no qualms with picking up a rock and smashing the poor rat's head in, if no one else was there to do it for her. But this was different. Now she would be facing a hundred rats, maybe more, each of which would try to tear into her flesh. That, she didn't know if she could handle.

She paused right outside the door to the "rat-trap", her hand on the handle. She knew from her father that the vault was to the left, buried beneath a pile of wood. It wasn't more than five feet away from where she stood, protected only by vicious, little rodents and an unlocked door. Still, she hesitated. How could she beat that many rats? It wasn't possible. Could she outrun them? Well, she might be able to reach the safe, but she'd never get back out again. Why didn't she think to grab a knife? Was there time to go back and find one?

Then, there was another pang from the spark, followed by the sound of something colliding with the walls. No, she realized, there was no time. Gathering her courage, she turned the handle and opened the door. The room was plain and bare. There were wooden fragments of what she assumed used to be furniture, but had now rotted away. There was what might have been a chest to her right, and a four-poster bed in front of her. Most things were covered in dust, although, as she looked carefully, she thought she spotted a glimpse of a locket in a corner.

At first there was nothing. No rats, no pain. She began to wonder if perhaps it had all been a rumor, started to protect the ocarina. She took a few steps into the room and shut the door behind her, looking to the left in hopes of finding the hiding place. Then, she heard the first squeak. And then a second. Then all Hell broke loose.

In a second, there were rats everyone, at least a dozen and half of them, maybe more. Some were on the floor; others had found their way on top of wood piles and inside crevices in the wall. Zelda couldn't count because they were all so fast and dark. One of the rats, closer to her, had blood dripping from his whiskers. She didn't want to know where it came from. They all charged at once, hungry, bloodthirsty little creatures that they were. Zelda began to scream, trying to run back to the door, but there were rats where she had been just a moment ago. She reached behind her and grabbed the first piece of wood she could find, a suitably sharp stake, which she swung about wildly.

She knocked back two and impaled one, screaming even harder when the corpse lodged itself on the end of her weapon. No matter how she shook the stick, its body stayed firmly on the point, slowly covering her hand in blood. In desperation she dropped the weapon, leaving herself defenseless. The other rats continued to run. She felt one bite into her ankle, before she kicked it away. Another lunged at her hair, but she managed to grab it and smash its skull in with her bare hands, trailing blood down her dress. She dropped it without a second thought. Looking around to reassess the situation, she could have sworn that there were more rats than there were when she started.

It was impossible. They just kept coming to eat her alive. Another, large one ran at her. She stepped on it, breaking its back, when another three jumped at her. Two managed to sink their teeth into her. Another grabbed her fingers. She began to writhe violently, pulling and hitting, until she was free. She lost track of the bites she had sustained, and still more rats were coming.

Then, the she felt another pain in her stomach. She looked down to see if it was a rat, but she saw nothing. Zelda suddenly realized that it was the spark, reminding her of her task and warning her that Ganondorf was still approaching. As if in response, another object collided with the castle walls, causing the very floors to shake and Zelda's knees to wobble.

_The spark!_ Zelda remembered. It was a long shot at best, but anything was better than being eaten alive. She reached within herself as Impa had taught her, and summoned the energy. She wasn't sure, exactly, how to make the energy obey her, especially since she wasn't sure what she wanted it to do. _Come on,_ she urged the spark, _Come on. Do it. Please._ With her last pleads, the spark relented, giving her a sudden power.

Around her, the air began to glow, and she wasn't sure what was happening. The lights began to solidify into walls around her, hugging tightly to her skin. _A shield,_ she realized, _it's a shield. _Zelda wasn't sure how effective the shield was, or how long it would hold up, so she quickly hurried to a pile of wood where she estimated that the ocarina might be.

It was a difficult matter, moving wood with the shield around her. It kept the rats' teeth from digging into her skin, but it didn't stop them from ramming into her with a feral desperation. Her head and limbs were still knocked this way and that as the rats flung themselves at her. Still, she dug as fast as she could, looking for the tell-tale blue stone that would symbolize the safe.

Finally, she spotted a corner of it, and began to dig all the faster, until the entire face of the safe was revealed. It was a light-blue square, no more than a foot wide, replacing a tiny piece of the floor. The rest of the safe was underneath the ground. The surface was very smooth, with only an engraving of the Triforce in its surface. Zelda stared at the safe with relief, before another, more horrifying thought occurred to her. She did not know how to open it.

Already, the powers of the shield were a drain on her energy, and she knew that if she left now, then she wouldn't have the energy to try again. She would have to leave the ocarina in Ganondorf's hands. No, she couldn't leave. But she couldn't get the safe out of the ground. She had no choice but to try and figure it out. Fast.

_Think it through_, she said to herself, _just go through this logically. There has to be a solution, somewhere. _Where had she seen that blue stone before? A few times, she realized, in the minor temples in her kingdom. The priests of the goddesses had noted the magical properties of the stone and had chosen it for their altars.

_But what about it made it special_, she asked herself, wracking her brain trying to remember the details. The temples were meant to symbolize the Goddesses being in the mortal world, so they could observe everything that everyone did. The altars were meant to be the way in and out, but only the goddesses could use them.

That's it! Only the Goddesses could use them because the rocks would occasionally disappear, but only under the proper conditions. The Song of Time. The rocks went away only when the Song of Time was played.

Softly, Zelda began to sing the Song of Time, praying that she was more or less on tune- at least enough for the rock to recognize her voice. It did, and the blue stone began to glow, before it faded from reality. In its place, there was simply a tiny hole, in which was wedged a small, blue ocarina.

It was really a tiny thing, but so delicate in its making. There was gold painted about the mouth-piece, showing pictures of the Triforce and the Goddesses and wreaths of beautiful ivy. Each of the holes was ringed with a tiny piece of gold, expertly inlaid with the painted wood of the instrument. It was beautiful, but Zelda could not savor the beauty for long.

Her shield was failing, and she knew it. If she held it up much longer, she would run out of energy again, leaving her at the mercy of the rats. She grabbed the ocarina and ran for the exit, not even bothering to sing the song again and replace the lid. There was nothing worth protecting left, anyway.

As soon as she was outside the room, with the door firmly dropped, she reached inside herself and tried to dispel the shield. It took a moment or two, for the spark to understand her, but eventually it loosened its grip. Silently, Zelda thanked it, stuffing the ocarina into a pocket on her dress.

There was another rumble, and the entire castle shook again. In the distance, Zelda finally noticed shouts and screams. _So Ganondorf is here,_ Zelda thought bitterly. She picked up her skirt again and ran, ignoring the tiny pinpricks of pain from all of the bites. She didn't know where she was running to exactly, only that it was important to reach it. Subconsciously, she made her way towards the courtyard, and from there, down the tunnel towards the guard houses.

_Impa, _she realized,_ I must find Impa. _Then, another gnawing pain began in her gut, unrelated to the spark. It was fear. She knew that it was silly to fear for Impa, who was a trained warrior who could best any guard if challenged. She should fear for herself, a ten-year old girl with no defenses. But she knew that she wouldn't feel safe again until she knew that Impa was too.

The closer to the castle gates that she ran, the more she began to notice the battle. The bulk of the fighting took place right in front of the castle, just inside the main gate. Ganondorf had apparently chosen to concentrate his force in a full frontal assault, relying on brute strength and numbers to win. There were apparently more Gerudo fighting than there were trained Hylian men. This surprised Zelda since the Gerudo were generally small in numbers. A few little fires had started up- or been purposely lit- and were burning ominously at the paintings of former kings. There were a few bodies, and even more men who were in the process of dying. Nobles, servants, and other non-combatants ran helter-skelter, as if unable to decide what to do. Zelda noted a few brave souls- a young kitchen boy and a lady from the provinces who Zelda had always disliked among them- trying to assist the wounded, but most people simply ran, including some of the guards. Zelda herself felt like a coward for trying to escape, but she knew that she had a mission, which could not be jeopardized by anything. She had to escape with the ocarina, or all was lost.

Then, the gravity of that statement hit her. She _must_ escape. There was no two ways about it. She couldn't risk her mission for anything, even love. Above all, she had to get out, and nothing could get in her way. She had to leave Impa.

_No,_ she thought, _I couldn't do that. Never._ Yet, even as she was filled with horror at her thoughts, she knew that she didn't have a choice. She couldn't fight, she couldn't win. The best she could hope to do was run and maybe fight at a later date. If she ran into the fighting, she would be giving Ganondorf the ocarina- if she were killed then someone would find it on her body; if she weren't, then there was no saying what would happen to her. Being a monarch was about making tough choices- the good of the many over the needs of the few. It was the smart thing to do. But it wasn't the right thing.

Zelda ran into a gate-house, which normally would be filled with guards. It was scarily deserted. Apparently all of the guards had run outside to do battle with the Gerudo as soon as they had passed the gates. From this house there was a little known passageway, a ladder which led to the top of the gates. From there, she knew that she could see the whole of the castle grounds. She would look for Impa from there. If she could find her, then she would signal her and the two would escape. If she didn't see her, then she would slip down the ledges to the side of the main road, and out in to the marketplace. The pathway would be exposed, but she would be safe, she hoped, once she reached the end.

If she made it to the marketplace, then she would find someone to give the ocarina to the green boy. Then she would go back for Impa. She would find her when it no longer mattered if she herself lived or not.

Thus, her conscience found an uneasy truce and she started up the ladder, opening the hatch carefully at the end. Slowly, she peeked her head up above the top, looking for enemy soldiers who may have climbed the gate. There was no one. She climbed up so that the top half of her body was above the gate, but she could still duck down quickly if anyone saw her or fired on her.

The battle had grown in size. There were too many soldiers to count, on both sides. From the distance, she couldn't tell who was alive and who was dead. There were many court members, still in fancy dress, trying to escape the fighting. But the gate was closed, and, besides her own, Zelda could see no exit. She shuddered to think what would happen to them, but there was no way to help them without alerting the Gerudo to her presence. Looking for the Sheikah was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. There were simply too many people and, distinctive as Impa was, Zelda couldn't spot her. Her only consolation was that, perhaps Impa was looking for her.

* * *

Impa was trained for battle, and the sights didn't bother her as she had expected them to. It was all very logical to her, she had been hardened against pain and fear. She didn't flinch as an inexperienced Gerudo girl flicked her on the shoulder with a rapier, or as she ran that same girl through with her own sword. This was battle, and the caring, emotional Impa who looked after Zelda was replaced by the stone-cold, calculating Impa, who would fulfill her duty no matter what it entailed.

Her duty at the moment was to find the princess and escort her to safety. There was no room in her mind for fear for her own safety. She had one function. Some people considered it strange that the Sheikah were such experts at compartmentalizing their emotions, but to her it was as natural as the ebb and flow of the tides. There was fighting Impa and loving Impa. Only by separating the two of them could she hope to survive.

Impa fought her way to the princess' room. It was not difficult- Ganondorf's army was large only because he had taken every available guard, most without sufficient training. Most of the more timid girls had clumped together at the front of the battle, by the gate. Only a few of the most experienced of the fighters had the courage to truly branch out, and they were largely preoccupied with the soldiers.

Impa thrust open the princess' door to find the room empty. _Where would the girl go?_ Impa wondered, turning around and going back the way she came. Zelda was a rational girl, but she was just a child. She would want safety. She would try to escape. _Yes, _Impa decided. _Zelda would know to escape._ Impa backtracked towards the front of the castle. There was one minor altercation with a poor girl, scarcely older than a child, but she was easily dispatched. She had crossed the moat before she encountered any real fighting.

The first Gerudo that Impa encountered lunged foolishly at her with a saber. It just nicked Impa in the chest before Impa was able to hit her left side, knocking her down for the remainder of the battle. The second tried to execute a spinning attack, which Impa dodged. Then, during the moment the girl required to recover, Impa stabbed her through the chest. The third Gerudo was much more experienced.

The woman was dressed in the traditional Gerudo gear, which was little more than what a Hylian lady would consider underwear. It was not armored, nor very safe, but it was flexible, and somehow, it suited her. Her long, red hair was drawn back in a ponytail, specifically designed to keep it out of her face. She looked very fierce, ready to kill, and Impa could tell by the look in her eyes that she was not a little girl who had been promoted beyond her league.

The woman stood in a ready stance, waiting for Impa to strike. She would wait for her opponent to make a mistake, so clearly she was experienced. Impa feigned a strike, leaning forward enough to fool her opponent into believing she would attack. The woman responded by readying herself, shifting her weight forward to accommodate the blow. At the last second, Impa reversed her weight, sending the woman careening forward. As she fumbled to recover, Impa slit her throat. It was all over in seconds.

Then, her opponents dispatched, Impa could resume her search for her charge. Honing her senses, Impa quickly scanned the battlefield and caught no sign of her charge in the crowd. Then, a hint of movement caught here eyes, just above the battlefield. Thinking that it could be an arrow, Impa tensed and focused on the shadow. She nearly gasped realizing what it was. Zelda, above everything, hiding in the passageway to the gate.

Impa dashed forward towards the gate house, nearly decapitating another woman along the way.

* * *

Zelda sighed in defeat. She could not find Impa anywhere, and she had wasted too much time already. She began to hoist herself on top of the gate, ready to run, when she felt someone grab her leg and pull her down. She screamed and kicked at the intruder, fearing that it might be Ganondorf himself who clung to her.

"Zelda! Look down."

Zelda froze before she looked at the woman grabbing her ankle.

"Impa!" she cried in relief.

Impa nodded. "So this is your escape plan?"

"Yes," Zelda answered, worried that she had made some huge mistake.

"Down the ledge and into the marketplace?"

"Yes."

"Alright. It's as good a plan as any. There is a stable in the marketplace, in one of the alleyways. We will go there and get a horse, so we can flee. I want you to run as fast as you can, and not stop for anything. You understand?" Zelda nodded. "Good. Now you have to do everything I say. You have to let me do whatever I need to- killing, running, anything. Yes?"

"Yes."

"Good. Let's go."

Impa climbed up beside her, and grabbed Zelda around the waist, pulling her out of the hole and on top of the gate. The pair dashed as fast as they could down the ledges towards the marketplace, terrified of being spotted; they were terribly exposed and a single archer could have easily ended their escape. Thankfully, no one looked up their way- everyone was too distracted with the main fighting outside the palace gates- and they reached their destination with no further delay.

The marketplace was surprisingly still in tact. It was odd to see such a contrast between the bloody fighting and the apparent contentment not a hundred yards down the road. Ganondorf and his forces must have been able to parade through the marketplace without the slightest bit of resistance. Zelda, in spite of herself, saw the stupidity in the whole situation. Where were the guards at the gates of the city, meant to protect against that sort of thing? Apparently they believed that Ganondorf and his entourage were there on some sort of diplomatic mission. The townspeople were just becoming aware of the fighting, alerted by the tendrils of smoke which reached out from the palace towards the sky. As Impa and Zelda ran through the main square, they heard a few inquisitive whispers, but no one had yet gone to investigate, and no one had even considered fleeing the city. If they had had the time, Impa and Zelda would have given a warning to them, but there was no such luxury.

The scurried through the marketplace. Impa was careful to hide her charge's face, so that they wouldn't be stopped by any curious commoners. They located the stable with no difficulty. It was a cheap place, with holes in the wall and a bitter smell. Still, there was a white, fast-looking horse already saddled when Impa arrived-apparently for another rider- being tended by a young boy with light brown, who seemed to be struck speechless by the sudden appearance of the princess and her guardian in his humble stable. Impa reached into her pocket and pulled out whatever rupees she had, not bothering to count them, and handed them to the boy without a word. She plucked the reins deftly from his hands and helped Zelda hoist herself onto the mare. The boy began to sputter protests, but one firm look from the Sheikah silenced him

The two rode the horse out of the stable and back into the market place. People were becoming more agitated by the noises from the castle, and the first few alarmists cried that there was fighting. Within three minutes, the whole of the market would be in a panic. Impa aimed to leave before that happened.

The horse charged through the main square, sending people scurrying out of their path. "Was that the princess?" Zelda heard one woman whisper.

"Couldn't be," her friend answered. A few other people affirmed the ridiculousness of that idea, when another whinny disrupted them. They leapt to the side just in time to avoid being trampled by a large black horse, at full gallop.

Zelda turned around as best she could, hearing the shouts of the shocked peasants, only to see her worst fear. Ganondorf rode towards them, his hand outstretched as though he were to summon magic to take them down.

"Hurry, Impa," Zelda pleaded. Her guardian didn't respond, but spurred the horse on with a determined concentration. It would be a close race, Ganondorf following them all through the market. Suddenly, Impa veered to the right, into a side alley. Ganondorf, assuming that they must be making for a different exit, followed, although he barely made the turn. Impa began to turn wildly, taking seemingly random paths in order to throw the evil king off.

While they didn't lose his pursuit, Impa managed to place a few hundred yards extra between them, which could make a huge difference, if it came down to it. Then, Impa, showing a truly remarkable capacity for remembering directions, pulled back out onto the main pathway, heading directly towards the drawbridge. With every step the gateway to freedom drew closer, and their pursuer farther away. _This is it,_ Zelda thought, _we're going to make it._ She looked about on last time, trying to spot any sign of a trap of Ganondorf's. There was nothing but a flash of green to her right.

_Fairy boy!_ Zelda realized. He must be coming to the castle, to see her. He must have all of the spiritual stones! "Impa," she shouted, "Impa, stop!"

"No time," her guardian answered curtly. Zelda twisted about, trying to signal the boy, to shout a warning, but there was no time. There was only one thing left for her to do. Quickly, she pulled the Ocarina of Time from the folds of her skirt and threw it over her shoulder towards the boy. It landed in the moat, but she hoped that he would know to search for it.

Even as she threw the instrument, she wasn't sure why she did it. She rationalized that if the fairy boy had all the stones and the ocarina, then he could go ahead and open the Sacred Realm without her. Still, her hope in this little boy didn't seem to justify gambling her country's future. If Ganondorf had seen the ocarina fall then maybe he could make the connection that the boy had the stones. There were so many things that could go wrong, and now she herself didn't hold any of the keys to the Sacred Realm. She gave up all her control.

In some ways it was a stupid thing to do. In some ways, it was selfish. She relinquished all control and so she relinquished all responsibility. No one could blame her for whatever came next. She hoped that maybe there was some hidden wisdom which she hadn't seen, which would maybe justify it in the future.

She looked up at her guardian for guidance, but Impa neither praised nor berated her. Instead, she muttered simply, "He will still need to know the Song of Time."

Zelda nodded, cursing her oversight on that one matter. What could they do now?

After some time had passed, Impa answered her unspoken question. "I can send him a vision, princess. I can teach it to him."

"Now?" Zelda asked, "Won't it distract you from the horse?"

Impa looked around at her surroundings. They had turned quickly and were riding along the borders of the Kokiri forest. "We are far enough that Ganondorf will not track us easily. We can spare a moment." She pulled the mare's reins, until the horse stopped. For a few moments, Impa concentrated on her own magic, crafting a vision that would ease the young boy as well as teach him the song. She cast the princess' image into it, believing that the image of the young maiden would inspire more confidence than her own visage. In the boys mind, the princess would explain that she had to leave, and that he wouldn't see her for a while. Then she would teach him the Song of Time, so that he could finish his journey. The whole vision would take no more than a minute or two.

When Impa was finished, she spurred the horse again, and she and the princess set off, seeking asylum. With any luck, in a few hours time, their small, green warrior would succeed and all would be well.

* * *

Whew! Sorry that this update took so long. I had it finished about 3 days ago, but I had to edit the last page or so because it was just awful. That, and I forgot to include Ganondorf chasing them, which theoretically is an important plot point.

Anyway, I can't believe that this went on for 15 whole pages! I've got to stop typing in size 10 font because I then have no idea how long it's going to turn out. Also, we're now past the 20,000 word mark, which is easily the longest I've ever stuck with a story. Ever. So that's really good, because it means that I must have some sort of inspiration or something. Yay!

So, as per the usual, R&R if you can. I really appreciate it. It's so fun opening my email and getting those little email alerts that tell me that someone wrote a review. It's just fun. :-) Unfortunately, mid-terms are next week, so it may be a while before I can update. Plus I need to figure out what's going to happen next, because, besides the main Ganondorf thing, now we have to introduce little pseudo-conflict, coming-of-age sort of things for Zelda, so that should be fun.

Well, I won't bore you with anymore Author's Notes. Until next time,

-CaMiAk


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

The horse tired out faster than Impa had expected. It was an impressive looking mare, but not very strong, they soon discovered. Before long, when they were not more than twenty miles from the castle, the horse was crawling along at a pace which simply wouldn't do. Under any other circumstances, they would have accepted the loss, rested for an hour or two- they had been driving that poor mare awfully hard- and continued. But now, they couldn't wait. Neither Impa nor Zelda could be sure if Ganondorf was following them, or if he would send magic or men after them, and even a few moments delay could kill them both.

Finally, in frustration, Impa pulled the reins and stopped the horse. Zelda looked up, confusedly.

"We walk for now. This pony can take us no farther." Impa slipped off and helped Zelda slide from the horse as well. "Quickly now." Impa whacked the horse with her palm and sent it in another direction. _To throw of pursuers,_ Zelda realized. _A slapdash measure, but it can't hurt._ Then Impa grabbed Zelda's wrist and proceeded off in a different direction.

Zelda tried to match Impa's fast pace, but she found that her legs were very sore from riding. She wasn't used to riding so long at such high speeds, and guessed that bruises had already formed on the underside of her legs from bumping up and down. All of her bite wounds were beginning to sear, as many had been coated with dirt and dust during their flight. Thus, she followed Impa in a sort of painful mince, trying, and failing, to move both quickly and painlessly. Still, her guardian was merciless, and comfort had to be sacrificed for safety.

"Where are we going, Impa?" Zelda finally dared ask.

"There," Impa answered, gesturing towards the high walls before them.

"What is it?"

"I know this place," Impa answered in a whisper, "vaguely. I have been hear a few times. Once to by a horse, and once on personal business. Not often enough that I know my way around, but I'm sure that I can figure it out. This is a ranch, _chiat_. It's name is Lon Lon."

"Why have we come here?"

"For another horse, dear. Isn't it obvious?"

"But where will we get the money? Didn't you give it all to the stable boy?" Zelda asked, curious, but dreading the answer.

"_Chiat_, we will steal it."

"But, surely-" Zelda protested.

"We don't have a choice. If I could pay I would. If we could wait for the other horse, we would. But we can't! We don't have another option. Now come," Impa ordered forcefully, grabbing Zelda's wrist.

"We take the front way. The walls are too high to sneak in from the back."

"But they will see us!"

"Perhaps I mislead you. You will wait beyond the gate. I will find the horse. I am a Sheikah, and I have been trained for this sort of thing."

"But-"

"Nothing, Zelda, nothing. I will do this, and you will obey me." Impa turned to leave before Zelda could object, ripping the royal seal from her dress and the hat from her head, planning to destroy them somewhere along the way, anything that could throw off she took the princess' remaining necklace, to sell later, before leaving the poor girl behind her. _It's better this way,_ Impa knew, _there' no room now to make a mistake._

* * *

Impa fled through the shadows. The Sheikah were by nature shadow people, and she was perfectly at home flying through the darkness, and no one but perhaps the sharpest-eyed eagle were spy her while she coasted. It was not a skill of hers, although, in a way, it was a type of magic. It was her nature. It was her home. Somehow, she felt liberated as she snuck through the ranch. It had been a while since she had shadow-run so far with such abandon.

There was little to no security at the ranch. The owner, Impa knew, could sleep through a pack of dogs in his bedroom, a Sheikah outside his window wouldn't even cause him to stir. The horse, however, Impa soon realized, would be a different matter.

The horses were kept by night in a stable, locked, but that was no challenge for the Sheikah. It was a two-story building, and, somehow, the ranch hands had managed to coax the horses up to the second floor. Impa couldn't fathom how they managed it, given the horse with which she was struggling, a chestnut brown mare, seemed to have no inclination to move, or even to listen to Impa. When Impa tugged on her reins, she would lie down. If Impa pulled harder then the horse would pull back. It was impossible.

"Who are you?," a small voice intoned from somewhere behind the nursemaid. Impa turned on instinct, with her weapon bared. The girl flinched, but did not scream.

For a girl she was, about Zelda's age, with red hair and a plain farm dress. _The ranch owner's daughter, _Impa remembered. _Maya? Mal-something?_

"It is of no consequence," Impa answered neutrally. "Tell me about your horse."

"No one can move her if she doesn't want to. Believe me, I've tried. Her daughter is the same way," the girl answered quickly, trying to explain her presence before the crazy lady chopped off her head.

"Take any other horse, and you'll have no problem. Take this one and you'll never get out of the ranch alive." The instant she finished speaking the girl flinched again, like she had said more than she had meant to.

"You are very thorough in your response."

"I didn't mean to be!" the girl answered, "I meant to quiet the horses, and then you showed up and then I couldn't stop myself. I don't know!"

"I wasn't accusing you of anything. I will go now," Impa continued, selecting a strong looking Rowan mare.

"Wait!" the girl answered, and Impa turned again.

"Where are you going?"

"It doesn't matter."

"You're from the castle aren't you?"

Impa looked at the girl questioningly. "What?"

"We could see the flames from the ranch. The entire city has caught on fire! Did you escape?"

"Generally," Impa answered, "One should not ask questions of the one holding the weapons."

"I'm sorry," the girl answered quickly. "You don't need to answer, if it's a secret. Just one thing, please."

"What?"

"Take good care of her."

"I promise."

Impa turned to leave, but the girl interrupted her. "And feed her lots of hay, everyday."

"Yes."

"And oats, too."

Impa didn't answer the girl this time, but pulled the horse down the stairs towards the door. As she shut the door behind her, the little girl continued.

"And carrots. She likes carrots." If Impa had paused a moment longer, she would have seen tears on the girl's cheeks, a harbinger of the suffering still to come, for Impa had left behind a trace which even she did not realize, which would one day bring ruin to the poor girl. But for now, the episode ends with a single parting, the eye of the storm.

* * *

Impa and Zelda took the horse very far to the East, stopping only twice, into some of the smaller provinces, aiming towards a village which Impa knew had a very royal-heavy leaning. East Marne, it was called. It was a tiny thing, nothing compared to the glory of Castletown, not even as affluent as Kakariko, but that was really the glory of it. It would be one of the later places which Ganondorf would search, probably. Impa hoped that they would be one of his lower priorities, but somehow, she didn't think that this would be the case.

The pair rode into the town around morning, fully exhausted and bruised from the bumpy ride. The town was much like the other Hylian towns which Zelda had seen.. There was central square that served as the basis for the community, just like the marketplace, with various branching tendrils to individual homes and shops. However, unlike the marketplace, this square was much larger and more open with large grassy areas on which cows and goats and other animals had been set to breed. Zelda saw that their owners did not watch them closely- it was in everyone's best interest that the animals didn't stray, so, if one began to wander, somebody would retrieve it, regardless of whose it was. Each creature had been branded with the insignia of its owner, so that everyone would know whose was whose?

_How ever do they get them back inside? _Zelda wondered, _It must take forever._ Apparently hygiene was not a major concern among the people in this village, either, because little or no effort had been made to clean up after the animals. They had apparently given up the park as a casualty of raising animals, and the villagers had learned to simply step around the dung.

To Zelda, rather than being repulsive as she had expected it to seem, was oddly fascinating. So this was life! Stepping in animal dung and not caring! How odd. In spite of herself, although she knew that she should be grieving and crying and screaming, Zelda was just a little bit excited, and more than a little scared, shameful as it was.

There were about fifteen people out in the square from what Zelda could see, and they were none too concerned with the presence of strangers. _Perhaps that is best_, Zelda considered. _I wouldn't know what to say. Do they curtsy to one another?_

Impa had apparently decided that this would be their final destination, as she slowed the horse to a stop and dismounted, gesturing for Zelda to follow suit. Zelda did so, and Impa led the horse out to the open grass.

"Excuse me, sir?" Impa asked a man she saw nearby, an older man wearing farmers clothes who was apparently staring off into space.

"Yeah?" he answered, his voice laden with a country accent.

"I was wondering if any animal could graze here."

"Well, would be hair tricky of us controlling all the grass here, now wouldn't it?"

"I suppose so." Impa took the horse's reins and led the horse farther out onto the grass. Zelda followed behind her closely, tempted to grab onto her nursemaid's leg so that they wouldn't get separated.

"Damn fine beast, you've got there," the man informed them when they returned. "I used to look after horses in my day, and that's a damn fine one."

"Well, thank you, sir," Impa answered awkwardly, trying to end the conversation.

"Now, now, none of that 'sir' business," he told her, emphasizing the 'sir'. "I ain't never been bad enough to demand no 'sir' title. 'Sir' shall I fetch you a cup of tea? 'Sir' shall I make you bed for you? 'Sir' shall I lick your shoes clean? No, not for me. Not on one end or the other."

"I suppose you're not a supporter of the royal family?" Impa asked, trying not to be alarmed.

"Well, no, I wouldn't go as far as all that. I'm not for them or against them, not in the sense you mean. I don't want them out- reckon it ain't easy running a country like that- but I don't want them lousy 'sirs' in my business, treating me like I ain't worth as much as some slimy palace git with his face all covered in fancy powders and his clothes costing something awful.

"Ah, but here look at me. Here I am rambling to you about them 'sirs' and 'dames' and all I meant to say was that you've got a fine looking horse there."

"Yes," Impa answered, a cover story forming in her mind. Adopting her best expression of grief enter her voice, she continued, "Well, it is… unfortunate that you chose this moment to mention the royal family, because I fear that they won't be around much longer."

"What's that? You planning something?"

"Or, that is, they may already be gone."

"How so?"

"You see, we, my niece and I, we just escaped from Castletown," Impa began, letting her acting skills take over as she began to feign sadness.

"Escaped? What did you need to do that for?"

"Do you know of the Gerudo people?"

"What?" the man exclaimed, "the desert lot? What have they got to do with anything?"

"They attacked. Sometime last night. Burned everything. We had no choice but to flee. All we managed to grab was the horse, and even then we barely made it out. I didn't have the heart to look back, but I would guess that the whole of the city is gone by now. I've no idea what happened to the royal family, but I don't doubt that Ganondorf, that is, the Gerudo King, wanted the throne of Hyrule for himself."

The man breathed deeply a few times, taking it all in, before he looked up at Impa. "When- when I said those things- about the 'sirs' and all that, I didn't mean for this to happen. Not to the royal family, and not to innocents like you. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course," Impa answered, "You couldn't have known. But I do have a favor to beg."

"Anything."

"Will you help us find a place to stay? Only for a few nights, we wouldn't want to be a burden. But my niece, the poor girl, can't ride any longer. We need to rest and recover. It's been-" she paused for dramatic effect, "-a hard day all around."

"I wouldn't dream of leaving you girls here," to man responded, "not after all that. You'll stay at my place tonight, and we'll find you someplace better in the morning. Have you ridden all night?" He stood up and made to awkwardly put his hand on Zelda's head in a comforting gesture, but Zelda flinched away.

"Yes, Mr.…?" Impa hesitated.

"Now, none of that 'Mr.' Business either. I'm Capra. Nothing fancy, no titles. Capra. My wife is Ilda and my children and Ronie and Smit."

"I am Ki," Impa began, making up fake names by drawing on those of relatives she once knew, "and this is Ular."

"Odd names."

"Yes, my grand-mother had a fair bit of Sheikah blood, and she was quite proud of it. Since then, all of our names have been Sheikah. I'm the only one of us, though, who ever showed any Sheikah traits."

"Ah," the man answered. Then he shook his head and continued, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to bring up your family. I'm sure its painful…"

"It is alright," Impa answered. "My mother and my sister were dead before the invasion. Years ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

Capra sighed. "Well, then, on to happier business, yes? Shall I show you the way to my house?"

"That would be very nice."

Capra signaled to the pair, but Impa hesitated. "What of the horse?"

"Oh yes, I will take it."

Capra walked over and took the reins of the pony, who followed willingly. Then, he led them all down the road. His house was a fair distance from the main square, but the walk was pleasant enough- the weather was fine and Capra spoke more or less constantly to break the silence. Zelda didn't even need to say a word.

Capra's home was a small building, containing two rooms and a dirt floor. There was a rough-hewn table in the corner and a few chairs fashioned from modified crates. On the other side, opposite the door, there was a large, brick fireplace, with enough room inside to light a fire and sit beside it comfortably without getting burned. It was clearly used for cooking, as some sort of soup was hanging from a black pot inside of it, with a pleasant fire still burning beneath it.

The other room contained two sleeping rolls, neatly put away for convenience's sake. Apparently this family couldn't afford beds. Other than that, the room was fairly bare, except for a single wooden chest.

"Ilda must be out," Capra informed them. He walked over to the chest and began to search through its contents. "Now, I know that we still have our two children's sleeping rolls somewhere. Ilda wouldn't sell anything of theirs once they left home. Ah… here we are."

The man pulled out two worn sleeping rolls, handing one to Impa and the other to Zelda. "Now, I have a few things to catch up on, and I'm sure that you would like to rest a bit. If it's alright with you, I will go now. I'll explain everything to Ilda and she'll be by in a few minutes."

"Thank you so much for your kindness," Impa told him.

"It's no bother at all. I suspect that there will be more like you, if the whole of Castletown really is gone. Now rest, you need it."

Capra left the two girls alone in the house, closing the door firmly behind him, so the only light came from the windows. There was a moment or two of awkward silence while Impa laid out the sleeping rolls and the two of them settled in. During the silence, a curious new emotion settled inside of Zelda: shame. She hadn't cried once since the start of the attack. Her father was dead, hundreds lost their homes, and she hadn't shed a tear. She even felt excited about her new life. Surely that was a sin. She should be mourning, but she wasn't.

"How are you, Zelda?" Impa asked her charge, who suddenly broke out into tears. "Zelda, Zelda, it's alright. You can cry."

"It's not what you think, Impa."

"How so?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Please? I think it will help."

"It's just… I don't feel too bad."

"What?" Impa asked, confused.

"I should feel so much worse, and I don't. Why wasn't I crying this whole time."

To her surprise, Impa laughed. "Let me see if I understand you. You're upset because you're not as upset as you think you should be? Zelda, Zelda, _chiat. _If you're not meant to cry then you're not meant to cry. If you're not meant to grieve, then don't try to force yourself to. Do you realize how silly this sounds?"

"But… but, so many people…" Zelda stuttered, and Impa put her arm around her.

"Zelda," Impa soothed, "You will be sad when you're supposed to. But don't try to force yourself."

"It just feels wrong."

"A lot of things do. Zelda, it's time that you learn that things don't always turn out the way you plan. Sometimes you're happy when you shouldn't be. Sometimes, you'll be sad when you should rejoice. It doesn't make sense, but you just have to work your way through it. Yes?"

"Yes," Zelda answered, and Impa hugged her tight.

"And now, you need to sleep. You've been up far too long and through too much for your own good. I'll find you better clothes in the morning."

Zelda lay herself down to sleep, and fell unconscious in a few seconds. Impa, too, lay beside her, but was kept awake by a troubling lump in her clothing. She shifted and turned trying to figure out what it was before she finally gave up and checked.

She gasped when she realized what she was holding: the royal hat which she had pulled from Zelda's head! She hadn't destroyed it. She had forgotten. Quickly, before Capra could return with Elda, she snuck into the main room, feeding the cloth to the fire and delighting as it burned up. _There goes the evidence,_ Impa thought. Then she retreated back to the other room, and snuggled up close to Zelda, relieved at last to enter a blissful sleep.

* * *

Zelda's sleep was plagued by nightmares- strange ones, though. She would have expected to see Ganondorf or Link or the castle on fire. Instead, she was greeted by the sight of pinkish clouds, the color of a sunset. They were all around her, and she wasn't sure why she didn't fall straight through them. Then again, she couldn't be sure which way was down. There seemed to be no directions, no time, not even a body of her own, just clouds everywhere. It was oddly peaceful, although Zelda couldn't help but feel alarmed.

Then the clouds began to part, and a golden glow split her vision. It took a second, while her eyes adjusted, to make out the form of a triangle. Part of Zelda could have laughed, that all of her nerves were just over a silly shape, but then part of her was filled with a silent reverence at the sight before her. At the back of her head, a voice, though she couldn't say whose, whispered to her "Triforce."

Suddenly she understood. A lone piece of the Triforce had found her, to tell her something. She opened her mouth to question it, but suddenly found that she couldn't speak.

"Hush, bearer," a voice said, but not in the way that a normal voice would. She didn't hear it with her ears, but rather sensed it. It reverberated through her mind and she could feel it, taste it, smell it, almost see it, as well as hear it. It was impossible to describe how those two words shook her, but if she could have, she would have fallen to her knees.

"Calm yourself," the voice continued, gentle and deep as before, "You have nothing to fear from me, though from my sisters I cannot promise safety.

"I have come before you in a rare state. I have never yet revealed myself to an unwilling mortal. All those who have ever seen me have purposefully sought me. You are the exception. I must ask of you a favor, and rest assured that you may refuse. I will not try to force you, nor will my sisters. But if you refuse, you must know that I cannot protect you.

"But if you accept, you will face more danger and pain than you can imagine. If you accept the responsibility, then you accept a destiny for you and for many to come. Do you understand?"

'_Yes_' Zelda intoned in her mind, but the Triforce seemed to understand.

"Will you do it?"

'_Yes_' Zelda repeated.

"Then prepare yourself." The Triforce approached her and glowed even brighter. Zelda couldn't be exactly sure what was happening, but suddenly a searing pain formed spreading like a white-hot flame all through her body. She would have screamed if she could have, but all of the sudden, her nerves wouldn't function and she couldn't do anything but want- _need_-to die or faint or something.

Slowly the pain lessened, to a dull throb. "There, bearer. You're journey begins now. You must be careful, for already darkness has entered even this Sacred Realm. You must hurry. Find courage or power. One will help you. But for now, you must flee. This realm is no longer safe. Go."

* * *

Zelda slipped back into consciousness, still suffering from the pain, but now she could pinpoint its source. It was her hand, and it was burning. If her dream hadn't desensitized her to it, she would have cried. Slowly, she gathered her aching arm, and looked at her palm, which looked fine. Then she turned her hand over and had to bite back a scream.

Her hand was glowing! And not just glowing, but glowing in the shape of the Triforce. It was inside of her! Her dream was real. Very, very real. The Triforce had chosen her and it was inside of her. She didn't even know how to respond. What now?

Zelda spent a few minutes simply debating her options, staring horrified at her hand, until Impa was subconsciously alerted to Zelda's trouble. Somehow, having spent so long as guardian and nursemaid to the girl, she gained the ability, even in sleep, to sense her charge's trouble, and was jolted awake.

"Zelda? What happened?"

Zelda couldn't even gasp out a word. She merely showed her hand to Impa, whose eyes widened in shock. "What is that?"

"It- it chose me."

"How? Why?" Impa stuttered, almost accusatorily.

"I don't know. It just did. And now… now I don't know what to do."

Impa, ever level-headed, took the leg of her pants and began to tear small strips from it. "First, we cover this up. I'll say that it is a bandage. You were injured. If someone tries to change it, scream."

"Scream?"

"I'll tell them that you won't let anyone but me near you. But you have to keep up this act. Whenever they try to come near you recoil. If they touch you, scream and cry. It is the only way. Can you do it?"

"Yes."

"Good, then I'll find you a pair of gloves when I can."

Zelda nodded and opened her mouth to say something else, but Impa put a finger to her lips and motioned for Zelda to lay back down. She did so and Impa followed suit, which was lucky, because not two seconds later the door opened.

"And you let them in the house? How do you know? They could be thieves, or worse!" a shrill, female voice was yelling. The voice didn't have a country accent, Zelda noted. Was it a city one?

"You don't know that. Besides, you should have seen them. They looked so pathetic. What could I do?" said a voice that Zelda recognized as Capra's.

"You could have said no! You could have found someone else to take them in! Does it look like we have enough to spare here? Like we're rolling in cash?" There was a pause. "Where are they? They better not have run off."

"I put them to sleep in the other room."

"On our bedrolls? They probably have fleas."

"On the children's old rolls, dear."

"Is that any better? Defile the children's memory, why don't you?" she mumbled, trailing off. A second later, harsh footsteps stopped at the door of the room. The door flung open and light flooded in. The woman- Zelda assumed that she was Ilda, Capra's wife- was a large woman, but, somehow, sharp. She was taller than Impa, and robust, but her face was angular, her nose and chin were pointy. Her eyes were deep brown, so dark that Zelda could barely tell where her pupils were. Her hair was brown streaked with gray, held back in a tight bun which was slowly falling out around her face. Her clothes were somewhat baggy, but not unattractive.

"Well?" the woman asked. "Get up."

"Dear, don't do this," Capra begged.

"Why not? How do you know they haven't stolen anything?"

"Would they stick around if they had?"

The woman snorted in acceptance, but couldn't come up with a response. She walked into the room, pacing around the pair to get the look of them. Impa rose to greet her, holding Zelda's arm, forcing Zelda up as well.

"What are your names?" Ilda asked.

"I am Ki, and this is Ular."

Ilda paced around them again, before gesturing at Zelda. "Doesn't she talk."

"She does," Impa began, "but not often. And never around strangers."

Ilda shook her head, "and a mute, too. Brilliant."

Zelda wanted to interject that she wasn't mute- that Impa just explained that she wasn't- but she wisely kept her tongue silent.

"I suppose you expect me to feed them."

"Ilda, honey, everyone needs charity in a time like this."

"I'll believe their story when I hear from a reliable source about Castletown." Ilda sighed and gestured for the pair to follow. "Very well then. Will you be staying long?"

"Only for a day or two. We wouldn't want to be a bother."

"How polite of you."

Ilda walked over to the pot which had been boiling when they first arrived. The soup inside was overcooked, and a good amount was somehow caked on the bottom. Nevertheless, Ilda scraped away at the dish, putting both soup and cake into each person's bowl. Impa accepted the bowl for both herself and Zelda, before giving it to the girl.

"So," Ilda began sharply, "you said you were from Castletown."

"Yes, ma'am," Impa began, feeling that it was best to use titles with this woman, even if her husband disliked them, "I'm actually from Kakariko, but when my sister died, my niece needed someone to look after her, but she couldn't be budged from her home town, so I agreed to move in with her."

Ilda nodded and returned to her soup, although for a second, Impa was sure that she caught a sympathetic glare in the woman's eye.

"Well, then. Where do you intend to go now?"

"I'm not sure. We have no more family. I could try to return to Kakariko, but I didn't go there right away because I was afraid that the Gerudo forces would head there next."

"Hmmm… well then, I suppose that we can find you a home here, for a little while longer. Well, then, when you finish eating, you can wash the dishes yourself." She gestured to a pail that was filled with cold water. "Use that, leave the dishes and the pot on the table. After that, come back out and find me. We'll hash out the details. Capra, watch them, will you?"

"You'll have to pardon her, you understand. She's… in a hard state. Yes?"

"I understand."

"Ronie just left home and Smit's new baby, and Jina… Well that's for another time. Yes?"

"I know. So then, shall we wash the dishes?"

"I wouldn't ever make you…"

"And I wouldn't dream of taking advantage of your hospitality. Now give me your bowl."

Capra laughed and handed Impa his bowl. "Until tonight, Ki, Ular."

Impa laughed too, and even Zelda smiled. It seemed that their new life would be rocky, but maybe, just maybe, there was hope.

* * *

Far away, the world was changing. Miles from the village of East Marne, Ganondorf had already taken the whole of Castletown and was slowly reaching his way outward. His plan had originally been to reach immediately for Kakariko and take down the second largest city in the nation, but a few little snags had appeared in his plan.

First, the Triforce had split. It was a disappointment, surely, but not an immediate threat. The bearers of wisdom and courage were nowhere to be found, and even if they were, they couldn't pose an immediate threat. They'd need time to get organized. Still, it did limit his abilities, for a time. A direct stab at the largest urban center with the second largest number of soldiers, was probably not the best solution. He couldn't both take that city and still hold on to Castletown. There simply weren't enough Gerudo. He would have to starve them out. Blockade them.

His plan was to isolate Kakariko from the farms in the east and the south. He would set up patrols to cover the roads leading from the other regions to block off Kakariko from their imports. For his own army, however, he would need to commandeer his own supplies, from some of the larger farms.

It was this initiative which had dragged him to Lon Lon Ranch that day. It was one of the largest distributors of milk and meat to the whole of the kingdom- rather surprising given its low number of workers. It was very efficient and somehow managed to create a rather nutritious brand of milk, which Ganondorf had had the fortune to try once and had since developed a taste for it.

He himself decided to ride out to Lon Lon, relying on his troops left behind in Castletown to keep order. He figured that he would have to move quickly to isolate Kakariko, so that it could not rally its forces, so there was not time to inform and train another Gerudo for the task. Besides, if he met any resistance, then it would be the perfect time to try out his segment of the Triforce.

When he arrived at the ranch, the gates were wide open, as they always were during the day. The first person he encountered was a small, red-headed girl, wrestling determinedly with a cuckoo. He walked straight past her, towards the two-story main house, where he knocked heavily on the red door.

The man who answered was short and skinny, with a droopy brown mustache and a tired-looking expression.

"Can I help you, sir?" the man asked derisively, apparently unimpressed by Ganondorf's stature and armor.

"I am looking for the owner of this facility."

"Talon is unavailable at the moment. Can I do anything for you?"

"I'm afraid not. Now you will fetch the man for me."

"I said he was unavailable."

Ganondorf slammed his fist into the door so hard that the wood splintered. "And I said you will fetch him for me."

By this point, the little girl had wandered over to the door, curious. "If you're looking for Papa, he'll be in the barn."

Ganondorf turned to her, angry at the delay. "Then fetch him for me, girl." She looked at him rather angrily, but thankfully for sake, she obeyed him without question, leaving the man and Ganondorf in an awkward silence. "So then, you are second in command?"

"Yes, you could say," the man answered, with just a trace of bitterness. "I am Ingo."

Ganondorf grunted but didn't respond in words. In a few moments, the girl returned with her father, a pudgy man in overalls who was yawning broadly.

"Hullo sir. Welcome! I am Talon of Lon Lon Ranch, the proud home of-" the new man began, but Ganondorf cut him off.

"I am in no need of an introduction. I am here simply with a… proposition of sorts."

"Eh?"

"Work for me, or I should say, under me. Supply my army and I will give you protection."

"Protection? Begging your pardon sir, but I don't quite understand."

"Simple. You only need take me on as your primary customer and you will be rewarded. Refuse, and that is another matter."

Talon scratched his head. "Now sir, I'm not sure I'm understanding, but I don't like your tone-"

"Like I said, refuse and face the consequences."

"Now hold on a minute. You don't have anything against my family and no law-"

"Nothing against your family? Law? Let me explain something to you. I make the laws now."

"Well then, I suppose we can take you on as a client."

"Primary client." Ganondorf reminded him.

"Primary client." Talon reaffirmed.

"Well then, a few papers signed and I can be on my way." He paused in his sentence, before walking around the family and the hired man towards the side of the barn. Slowly, he bent down and traced the ground with his hand. "What is this?"

"What?" Talon asked confusedly, watching every movement.

"Where are they?" Ganondorf asked.

"Who?"

"Who else?"

The three looked at their new king strangely, but Malon began to get a sinking feeling in her stomach. It couldn't be, could it?

"Do you know what this is?" Ganondorf asked. The family shook their heads. "This is a Sheikah trail, left by a shadow run."

"A what?" Talon asked.

"A shadow run: a magical power of the Sheikah, the people of the shadows. They can travel at high speeds in the shadows, leaving behind only a barely detectable trace." Ganondorf's face took on a slightly scary look, as though there were a prize just a tiny bit out of reach.

"Did you know that there are only four living Sheikah?" The family shook their heads again. "One is below the age of ten; one is in the custody of the Gerudo. The other one is the guardian of the former princess of Hyrule. And she has been here. Now tell me, where are they?"

"I don't know!" Talon answered, panicked. Malon and Ingo reaffirmed this, but Ganondorf was no longer listening. He was following the trail, step by step, watching where the line went.

"It could be the fourth Sheikah," Malon stuttered, "couldn't it? We had a theft a few days ago. He could have-"

Ganondorf cut her off again, with a gesture of his hand. "We shall see." He walked slowly, concentrating on the thin trail of invisible magical energy. It led him into the stables, up the steps, towards the horses' pens, while the family followed behind terrified. Then he stopped, outside of an empty stall.

"It ends here," he informed them, and then began to sift around in the hay. Finding nothing, he threw down the hay in frustration. "You!" he ordered Malon, "What horse uses this stall?"

"Her name's Kiowa," Malon stuttered.

"Where is she?"

"Outside, with the other horses. I-I could get her."

"No need. She wasn't the one stolen?"

"No, sir."

"Who was that?"

"Stetson."

"Where does he stay?"

"There," Malon answered, shakily pointing to the stall across the way. Ganondorf approached it and tore into the hay at the bottom. _No, _Malon thought, _He can't know. No way! I didn't do anything. It was just a thief, right?_

Ganondorf stopped. "You say that they weren't here? Then what, pray tell, is this?" Ganondorf asked, holding up a small piece of cloth, on which Malon could just make out a bloodstained, faded Royal Seal.

Talon was stuttering incoherently, while Ingo was simply standing with his mouth wide open. Malon began to shake and felt like she would vomit. Surely he couldn't blame here. She didn't know!

"Now then," Ganondorf began, too calmly for comfort. "Where are they."

"W-we didn't know. We couldn't. I-" But Talon didn't finish his sentence, because he was knocked aside by a sudden force of magic, which materialized in front of him and shoved him into the wall. When he looked up again, blood trickling from his mouth and nose, he saw that Ganondorf's fist was glowing with dark energy, and that he was only a few seconds away from incinerating them all.

"I would kill you all," Ganondorf said, "but I have need of your services and your skills. Your milk, in particular. This ranch is going under my control, and you," he gestured at Talon, "will leave it immediately. You two," he gestured at Malon and Ingo, "will remain here and will work for me. Now, girl! Fetch me a drink."

Malon just barely managed to stutter, "milk?" Ganondorf nodded, and Malon skittered out of the building.

And so began the dark age of Hyrule, far away from the pleasant meal of the princess. Thus, the Great War became inevitable, and destinies were set in motion.

* * *

Author's Note: OK! That actually came out a lot sooner than I expected it to (I got a bad grade on an essay, so I sort of "spite wrote" for a few hours today). Sorry if there are a few errors, or if things seem overly simplified- I cranked this out in only a few days. Although it did help that my sister was here, bugging me to finish it. :-D So that's all well and good.

Anyway, in the next chapter Ilda will become a bit more complex, I promise. And I think I'm going to occaisonally intersplice little stories of Ganondorf, because it's nice to know what he's up to. Plus, he's one of the more interesting characters in this game (I mean he doesn't have much of a personality, but at least he has some).

So then, until next time,

CaMiAk


	6. Chapter 6

I don't own this game.

* * *

The sadness did hit Zelda eventually, but not in the form she had expected. It didn't come with crying, wrenching sobs and fits of anger at the world. Never once did she throw herself on the ground screaming in anguish and cursing Ganondorf's name. Rather, it was a dull depression which didn't pain her much but plagued her incessantly.

Staying a few days with Capra and Ilda had somehow evolved into staying with them for months. Zelda held up her charade well, acting like the slow child- she wouldn't speak to anyone but Impa for five weeks, and even then spoke only in whispers. It was infuriating, sometimes, when Zelda wanted to object to something, but she couldn't, for fear of alerting the people. She had to pretend always to be silent and timid. It was a curious sensation, having to filter all her thoughts through this different lens. She had learned to test the boundaries of what she could and couldn't do. She had to be obedient most of the time, but she could sometimes point out flaws- only tiny ones though. And she got to scream and cry if she really wanted to, but she could never explain why. Capra considered it a victory to get her to even smile. She liked the old man, so she smiled at him as often as was prudent. It was fun to see his face light up, too, while the wrinkles in his forehead would stretch. That was a good day.

Of course, many days weren't good days. Ilda was as temperamental as ever. Sometimes she looked like she was about to spit on Zelda as a waste of space. She would call her "dumb" and "mute" and "waste of good food". She would always put Zelda doing the hardest chores that she could: she would always make Zelda wash the dishes wish burnt food caked on; she would have Zelda weed the garden patch on the cold days, when Zelda's fingers were so numb with cold that she would stab herself on thorns and come back in with her fingers bleeding, even through the gloves that Impa had procured for her. Of course, she couldn't take the gloves off until everyone but Impa was gone, so her fingers were often painful.

But then, Ilda would turn around. She would try to hug Zelda, until the girl squirmed away or screamed. Once, Zelda was sure that she saw Ilda with tears in her eyes. When the woman tried to hug her, Zelda let her hold on for a few minutes. She could have sworn that she heard Ilda mutter 'miracle' under her breath. Zelda didn't understand, and after a while she gave up trying.

Still, there were a few things that she had begun to learn. She learned not to pick up the tall, spindly, green-brown plants, because they stung her fingers and left little prickers in her skin that took hours to dig out. And she realized that if you left water in the pan for an hour or so before you scrubbed, then it would be easier to get it clean. Slowly, the lessons of manual labor were drilled into her. She learned to suffer, sleeping on an old roll which let cold air in around her feet and was cushioned only by a layer of dirt beneath her. Eventually, she taught herself to hold in her tears and her fears.

True, she never stopped worrying about the green boy, and she never stopped loathing Ganondorf, but she found that she was simply too exhausted much of the time to devote her energy to worry or hate. In fact, she made a point of not learning about the situation of the country. By the end of the day of hard work, she would simply fall asleep, like a log, dreamless. Thus her life fell into a dull routine, as nine, ten, eleven months passed. It was late spring, nearly fall, and a cold chill descended on the air.

* * *

Zelda woke up early, as always, that day. She dressed, which consisted of slipping her day to day clothes over the plain night shift she wore and shoving her feet into frozen boots, lacing them up with chilly fingers, and stumbling over to where Ilda was awake, crying this morning, while she cooked eggs. _Eggs_, Zelda groaned internally, _not again. They take forever to clean up._ Ilda was sobbing so hard that her tears were falling into their breakfast and she didn't notice as Zelda padded her way into the room.

"Ilda?" Zelda whispered, looking scared and confused as best she could.

"What? Who?" Ilda looked around for a moment. "Oh… you." Her tears dried instantly, and she gestured to the plates in the corner. "Fetch me those and wake your aunt." Zelda did as she was bid, and didn't ask questions- it wasn't advisable to test Ilda in one of these moments. Impa awoke and joined her charge as Ilda apportioned food at for all of them. It was then that Zelda noticed that the eggs had been divided in three. _Where was Capra_? She wondered, but didn't have the courage to ask. Fortunately, Impa seemed to wonder the same thing.

"Where is your husband, ma'am?" Impa inquired. She had taken to calling Ilda 'ma'am' because she saw that the woman was quite flattered by the title and became marginally easier to deal with.

"He is out this morning," Ilda answered flatly. "He will be back later. Tell me, girl, how old are you now?"

Zelda flinched and answered quietly, "Eleven."

"Yes. And what do you know of history?"

"Nothing."

"Reading? Writing?"

"No."

"Hmm… good thing then Capra's gone off now."

Impa looked at Ilda confusedly. "What do you mean?"

"Well. My own children began schooling when they were about six, but you'll fit in right enough with the little kids. I expect that you'll learn a little something, make yourself useful in the future. Now don't go getting any dreams about being a scholar. I don't intend for you to study that long. Just enough that you'll have some future prospects, if you catch my drift."

Zelda didn't, but she kept silent. Impa, on the other hand, did not. "Zelda," she ordered, "go weed the garden."

Zelda didn't want to leave, so she quietly answered, "I weeded it yesterday."

"Well fetch some water then."

Zelda couldn't come up with a good reason why not to, so she reluctantly went to the water bucket and then hurried to fetch the water. The trip to the well was not far, but she still sped as fast as she could without raising suspicion, so she wouldn't miss much of the conversation. When she returned, she waited quietly outside, listening in closely. She couldn't see the two women, but she could hear everything.

"I don't know why you're in such a huff about this!" Ilda was saying.

"It doesn't matter why. What matters is that it wasn't your decision to make. You didn't even consult me!" Impa responded, in one of her rare fits of anger.

"I don't see why that would be so important."

"I'm her only blood relative, surely that counts for something."

"Blood? What does blood matter unless its spilled on the ground? Now, I'm the one who's been feeding and clothing her for almost a year. A girl like her probably can't even remember back before she came here. Now you're telling me that a bit of blood makes you any more her mother than I am?"

"What?"

"Never mind, the point is she's going to school. I run this house and I have the power to kick you out. Good luck finding a new home, now. Why, with this new King Ganondorf in charge, it's probably not even safe for two girls such as yourselves to travel the streets outside this village on your own. Would you really risk your safety over something as trivial as some schooling?"

Impa remained silent, but Zelda could almost feel the anger, pulsing off of her skin. _What was so wrong with school?_ Zelda wondered. In truth, she was a little excited about it- she hadn't done anything besides housework for almost a year. It might be fun. Of course, it would be tricky to go to school and still play the idiot, but that's why she would be in a class with small children. Surely, she could go and enjoy herself.

"Where is that girl?" Impa muttered, and Zelda instantly remembered that she was supposed to be fetching water. She straightened herself up and waited a few seconds before walking back in.

"Ular," Ilda began, "You will be attending school in a few days. Capra will return with a new dress for you. Won't that be fun?"

Zelda was not entirely sure if Ilda meant to encourage or threaten her, but she nodded nondescriptly, all the same. Impa looked as if she wanted nothing more than to take Ilda's neck and wring it.

A few hours later, Capra returned as expected- he had gone to the next village over to pick out a dress for her, and he was quite proud of his choice. Zelda had to admit that, regardless of the fine clothes that she used to wear in her other life, this dress was impressive. It was blue satin, of a good quality, with a bit of embroidery at the hem and a tiny bit of lace- extremely expensive- at the collar. The fact that a farmer's family had managed to procure it was almost shocking. It even came with a pair of shiny, black shoes.

Zelda itched to try it on, but Impa shook her head no, so Zelda merely thanked Capra and took the dress in her arms. For the next few days, all of her daydreams were filled with wearing the dress to school, and of going to school and of getting out of the house. Impa was getting more and more sullen, but Zelda was too high on her own cloud to think to ask Impa about the problem.

* * *

The first day of school seemed to take forever to arrive. Zelda was nearly jumping up and down with the chance to do something. Impa, on the other hand, kept her head down and her lips pursed until her mouth looked like nothing but a thin, white line. For whatever reason, Ilda was cheerier than usual; she hadn't snapped at Zelda in a few days, although she had started to play with her hair frequently, in a nervous way. Capra stayed about the same as ever, treating Zelda as if she were his own granddaughter. When the dawn of the day finally came, Zelda could barely restrain herself. It was happening. Finally, something was happening!

Ilda was awake before Zelda that day, and she had hung up the dress almost reverently. When Zelda awoke, she had scarcely had time to jam her feet in her boots before Ilda was urging her to put it on. The woman's face was flushed red; Zelda had never seen her so excited. Impa awoke silently and stood off to the side, so Zelda did not pay any attention to her.

The dress fit perfectly, surprising given she hadn't been brought out to the fitting. Zelda loved the way she looked in it, even though she couldn't see herself in a mirror. It reminded her of her old days, as a princess. _Strange_, she thought, _that feels like a different life_. She shrugged the thought off and twirled around a little bit, admiring herself. Ilda actually clapped with delight.

"You'll walk her there today, won't you Capra?" Ilda finally asked when Zelda was prepared.

"I thought I could walk her," Impa protested.

"Nonsense. Capra knows the way. Lazy old man needs exercise anyway," Ilda answered, cheerfully waving her hand, although Impa noted the sting of bitterness deep down.

"If Ki really wants to walk her, I don't think-" Capra tried to interject, but a look from Ilda silenced him. Her cheeks were still red, but no longer from excitement. If Capra could read his wife correctly, then it seemed as though she were about to cry.

"Capra, you will walk her there, and be sure that she arrives," Ilda snapped, and then, with a rough tug at Zelda's hair pronounced her ready.

Zelda, of course, was more or less oblivious to the woman's mood swings. She had more pressing matters to attend to, such as spinning around and watching her skirt flare up. Perhaps she was acting out of character, seeming to happy for the persona that she had chosen to embody, but everyone in that little house had their own emotions to be concerned about, and wasn't bothered in the least by the changes in the girl. Finally, Capra took Zelda's hand and led her outside, down the path, towards the new school building.

It wasn't so much an actual school as it was a converted room of someone's house. In the past there had been a school building, a large one, with three rooms. They taught the children there, but also held town meetings and held any necessary receptions within its halls. But it had caught fire about a year back. Zelda knew all of the details of the story, of course, since the fire was such an odd event that it was sure to live on as legend in the tiny village.

The schoolhouse had burnt down in a lighting storm. Not even a rainstorm, featuring lightning, but a storm that consisted entirely of overcast skies and a few bolts of lighting and bursts of thunder. There was no rain to speak of. The whole event was completely unpredictable. Zelda had heard that one little girl had perished in the flames, before the town managed to put the fire out. Apparently, some of the more radical members of the town took the fire as a sign from the goddesses that the town should have no school, and thus the building had never been rebuilt. Only recently had they been overruled, and so a little school was set up in a village woman's home, though there were plans to perhaps rebuild the original building.

The new school room was a tiny affair. On its dirt floor, there were placed about a dozen or so cloth mats, for the children to sit on. A chair had been placed at the front for the as-of-yet absent teacher, a rather heavyset woman who Zelda vaguely recognized though she couldn't figure where. A few children had already begun to gather: there were all ages mixed in, boys and girls together. One boy, with unruly blond hair that reminded Zelda painfully of Link's looked to be about six, while another girl, a scarily skinny girl with a twisted leg, looked to be about thirteen. There were two more boys, both with dark brown hair, who looked to be either best friends or brothers, maybe ten years old. Finally there was one little girl, no more than four, with light brown hair and dark eyes, who refused to let go of her mother's skirt. Plainly more children were still expected.

Much as Zelda ached to run forward and meet the children, she found herself clinging to Capra unexpectedly, until she actually reached out and grabbed his leg, like the four-year-old. "Now, now, Ular, dear. No need to be so afraid. That there," he gestured to the older girl, "is a child named Ayleen. She's only, what, a year older than you? Why don't you speak to her?"

Zelda simply shook her head and shoved her face into Capra's pant leg. "Aww, dear. Ular, I forgot, you don't like strangers. Of course. Well, we'll just have to take it slow then. Tell you what. If you go and meet that other girl, then I'll stay with you the whole day. Is that good?"

Zelda deliberated, but eventually, her secret desire to have a friend won out, and she nodded. Slowly, she lifted up her face, and looked over to where Ayleen was standing, leaning on a makeshift crutch. From close up, Zelda could get a much better look at the girl. She was short for her age, and terribly skinny. Zelda could almost see her cheekbones poking through her skin. Her hair was a dark brown, but without any luster. It hung like a used mop, draped over her plain face, tied back with a tiny little strip of blue cloth. She was dressed in a simple dress, a brown thing that was cinched at the waist, and no shoes. Zelda could see her twisted leg even underneath her skirt. One of her feet was even turned at an angle and there was a little bump in her leg, forcing her to rely on a thick wooden crutch to stand. All in all, she looked very pathetic and quite ugly. Yet, Zelda noticed, that her eyes flicked back and forth, but whether with intelligence or suspicion, Zelda couldn't tell.

Zelda approached slowly, timidly, but Ayleen didn't seem to notice. Finally, when she was close enough, Zelda squeaked, "Hello."

Ayleen looked up quickly, whipping her head around in surprise. "Hello," she finally answered, shyly.

"I'm Ular," Zelda informed her quietly, not sure how else to break the ice. This surprised her. She had never had a real difficulty speaking with people. Had she really gone so long without speaking to anyone but Impa?

"I'm Ayleen," the girl responded.

"Hello," Zelda answered again, lamely, unsure of what else to say.

"Hello," Ayleen answered. And then the conversation was over, and Capra was gesturing at Zelda to come and find a little mat to sit on while the first class began. Many of the children had parent's staying with them for the first few minutes, although they would probably return to their business in an hour or so. Those who didn't stuck with friends or were joking with acquaintances. Ayleen stumbled towards the mats on her own, taking the last available mat, directly beside Zelda. Capra, on the other hair, settled himself behind Zelda, content to sit on the bare dirt floor.

The teacher came in, taking her place in the one chair, at the front of the room. She was a plump woman, who wore a flower in her hair, just above her right ear. It was a dandelion, Zelda recognized, which was technically a weed, but it looked pretty, the yellow leaves next to her black hair. "Good morning, students!" she began, excessively cheerily, perhaps, but Zelda appreciated it. "Today you begin your grand journey to become scholars. The first step of many, towards the world of knowledge."

No one moved a muscle. Perhaps some of the older children were reflecting on the fact that they didn't have a hope of becoming scholars: they would be farmers like their parents and their grandparents, of course. Most of them were just there to learn their letters and simple numbers, so that they could navigate what little book learning they needed in their lives. Most of the little children had missed some of the vocabulary and didn't know what they sentences actually meant. The little four-year-old that Zelda had seen earlier was beginning to doze, until her mother gave her a little rap on the arm.

"Well, now," the teacher continued, "Not all of you believe me, I see. But trust me when I say that what you learn here will prove invaluable to you. Now then, I am Miss Priscilla Overworth and I will be instructing you. Now, each of you can take a tablet and a stick and we'll begin."

Each of the children filed up to collect a piece of wood with some wax spread over it and a little pointed stick. Zelda recognized them because she herself had first learned to scratch our her name on one of them. The idea was to use the stick to write in the wax. Then, when you were done, you gently heated the tablet again and waited for the wax to melt and erase everything, letting you do it all over again.

Zelda took hers obediently, and handed one to Ayleen, who was moving slower than the rest of the class. The girl eyed her kindness suspiciously, but finally accepted the little tablet and returned to her seat. Once all of the children, after much fidgeting, were settled, Miss Overworth took up her own tablet and began to instruct the children in making their first letters. The task was easier than expected: it seemed many of the children already knew at least the letters in their own names, so finally Miss Overworth instructed them, if they could to write out their own names.

Zelda always liked calligraphy. It was fun to direct her wrist in smooth curves, like she could feel the words and the letters being built, and then, at the end of all of that, the marks that she made would mean something. Carefully, Zelda etched into the wax the letters of her name. Z. E. L. D. A.

Only too late did she realize her mistake.

She had written her real name. The town knew her as Ular, and she had written Zelda. Furiously, she scratched at the wax, trying to cover up the letters so no one would see. She hurried her stick over and over her work, until she broke off the tip.

"No, no, Ular, treat the wax like your friend," a voice said over her shoulder. Zelda looked up, expecting to see Capra, but was faced with Miss Overworth. "Now, now, here. Take this." She handed Zelda a new tablet and stick. "And try again. Do you know your letters?"

Zelda nodded slightly a picked up her new stick, carefully carving her alias into the wax.

"See now, that's very pretty," Miss Overworth began, "And in cursive, too. Where did you pick up cursive?"

Zelda didn't have an answer, so she simply sat, open-mouthed, trying to invent a plausible excuse, but Miss Overworth was too fast for her. "Oh dear, no need to look so scared. That's a good thing. I learned cursive early, too. Back home."

The woman spoke the words back home so wistfully, that Zelda dared to dream that perhaps she had found her friend, someone who had suffered as she had. "Home?" Zelda whispered.

"Oh, oh nothing dear. I am simply from a place very different, very far away. I suppose I miss it, at times."

"Where?"

"Oh, nowhere." The poor woman was getting flustered and determined to avoid the subject.

"But," Zelda asked, getting bolder as pieces of the story fit themselves together in her mind, "it must be somewhere." _Could it be?_ she wondered.

"Well, not anymore. It's complicated, dear."

"My home's not anymore either."

Miss Overworth's face suddenly flooded with sympathy, as though she knew exactly what Zelda felt. She refused to answer anymore questions, but Zelda knew the story by then anyway. She knew why she had thought that Miss Overworth had looked familiar.

Miss Overworth was from Castletown! Zelda could vaguely picture seeing her in the streets of her native city. She had never spoken to her- why should she have?- but she could recognize the woman. She must have come to the castle frequently, for Zelda to have remembered her so. Yet she was more educated than most of the servants. Zelda tried and tried to remember exactly how she had known the woman, but it escaped her. Still, she was positive, absolutely sure, that Miss Overworth was originally from her own home city.

Miss Overworth's eyes scanned Zelda's wax. "Yes, that's very nice. Excellent skill," she praised, before walking away to visit another student. That, however, was the most eventful moment in the class. After the conversation, once everyone had written their names, the class was instructed in some of the beginning sounds, and how to form the letters. It wasn't until then that Zelda realized just how boring school was, especially since she already knew how to write. No matter what challenge was issued, Zelda could beat it; it was all so easy. Finally, by the end of the day, Zelda was paying more attention to the little aches and pains in her legs than to the lesson being presented.

When, at last, Miss Overworth declared the day over, Zelda stood up quickly and turned towards Capra, who had dozed off at some point during the day. She was readying herself to poke the old man, when she heard a voice from beside her.

"People say you're stupid, but I say you're smart," the voice told her. It was high and scared sounding, and so quiet that only Zelda could hear it. Zelda turned around and found herself face to face with the girl from before, Ayleen.

"Huh?" Zelda asked.

"You're smart. Smarter than you realize. You're just scared, like me." Zelda began to panic. Had the girl really seen through her carefully crafted disguise so easily?

"I-I…" Zelda stuttered.

"You don't have to be scared, though. At least, not of me."

"I…" Zelda continued.

"See you tomorrow. And thank you for saying hello to me."

Ayleen left without another word to anyone, leaving Zelda behind, bewildered. Eventually, as the shock wore off, she remember to wake up Capra, and so the pair returned to their home.

* * *

Impa wouldn't say a word when she got home, not to Zelda, not to Ilda or Capra, which was difficult because Zelda was aching to tell her everything that had happened and everything that she had learned. Whatever had upset her like that, it was bad.

Ilda's jolly mood had worn off some, although she was still behaving cheerier than was her custom (although the looks that she exchanged with Impa could have burned straight through a wall) as the entire family sat around to eat dinner, which was some sort of vegetable stew.

"So Ular," Capra began, trying to ignore the tension between Zelda's guardian and his wife. "Did you enjoy your first day? I must have nipped off there, for a little bit."

"I liked it," Zelda said, but didn't say anymore.

"What of that teacher, eh? Interesting woman, from far away I hear."

Ilda interrupted, "Far away indeed. And she certainly doesn't know how things go on around here!" Zelda didn't know what that meant, so she kept silent. Capra coughed awkwardly and then changed the subject.

"And you met that Ayleen girl. Was she nice?"

"Yes," Zelda answered simply.

Ilda looked sharply at Zelda. "You spoke with Ayleen?"

"Yes."

"And you let her?" Ilda asked Capra.

"Well, yes."

"How could you do that to her?" Ilda questioned, her voice rising and her temper flaring, like a spark had just been lit off inside of her. Capra sighed and looked very tired.

"Ahh, Ilda don't do this to me."

"If it weren't for Ayleen…" Ilda began, her very face quivering with the effort of speaking and red flushing into her cheeks.

"Superstitious claptrap, that is," Capra answered. "That girl didn't do anything."

"How can you-" she couldn't finish her sentence, and tears were springing into her eyes. "Jina would be… She could have…" It seemed that Ilda couldn't finish her thought because the next second, with tears streaming down her face, she had run from the room and was gone.

After a moment's silence, Impa said the first words she had said all night. "Ular, why don't we go to bed."

Zelda readied herself in silence, unnerved by Impa's coldness. She had resolved to ignore her nursemaid until she came around and saw how wonderful an idea school had been, but that night she could no longer keep up her shell. There was simply too much in her mind to keep up her charade around her guardian.

"Impa," she timidly asked of her nursemaid as she curled up in her sleeping roll, "why are you mad at me? I don't think I did anything…"

Impa sighed softly beside her. "You did nothing, Zelda. Nothing at all."

"Then why are you so angry?"

"I am not angry at you. I am angry at-" she hesitated, "someone else."

"Ilda?"

"Yes, Ilda. And at myself."

"Why would you be angry at yourself?" Zelda asked, because, much as she scanned her mind, she could think of nothing that Impa had done wrong.

Impa quieted a minute, and thought through what she could say. It was simply too much to tell the girl; she had discovered too many secrets to impart to her charge. Zelda may act mature, and she may seem intelligent, but she was still a girl and she shouldn't be burdened with what Impa had learned.

"Is it," Zelda whispered, a little afraid to speak the name that she had avoided for almost a year, "Is it Ganondorf?"

Impa sighed again, "Yes, him, among other things." Yes, it was easier to keep it simple. Don't tell her everything.

"Oh. How far has he gone?" Zelda asked, for the first time actively seeking new of her foe.

"He has not reached East Marne yet. He doesn't need to. All of Castletown has been destroyed. He keeps his palace there, even though I've heard that it's nothing but a den for monsters now. He's got control of all of the larger farms, which he uses to feed his army and starve any resisters. He has control of most of the north and west now, but he's hesitant to spread out any farther until Kakariko falls. It's nothing short of a miracle that it's held out this long, but it won't last too much longer. Then he'll probably turn his attention east, towards us."

"Is he still searching for us?"

"I would imagine so, but I don't think we're his top priority. I highly doubt that he would send scouts to East Marne, in particular, so we may be safe for a few more weeks. Yet, I've heard rumors that there are wanted posters up for you, so be wary. Now more than ever you must protect your identity."

Zelda breathed deeply a few times, digesting all of the information. "Only a few more weeks?"

"That's stretching it. We'll have to move soon, to someplace much smaller, much more out of the way."

The conversation ended there, but Zelda couldn't quiet the thoughts in her head. Only a few weeks. That didn't seem like much. Not much at all.

"You don't think, maybe, he'll forget about us. So we can stay."

"I'm sorry Zelda. There's no other way."

"Yes. I understand."

* * *

There was no way, of course, for either of the pair to know exactly how important they were on Ganondorf's list of priorities. And they were fairly high, because Ganondorf had spent the last few months doing some research, which was clearly beginning to pay off.

"My lord, I understand that you think that you should find the girl, but surely-" an old woman begged of Ganondorf. It was somewhat a comical scene to watch; she was so much shorter than him. Her head was disproportionately large, emphasized by a large quantity of white hair, which poofed out as though she had just suffered an electric shock. She kneeled on the ground, in a supplicating position, with her lined face pointing towards the ground until her overly long nose nearly touched the floor. Beside her, her near identical twin assumed the same position, both trying to plead with their new ruler.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. I didn't call you here because I wanted your advice," Ganondorf answered, calmly, standing before the two women indifferently.

"Sir?" The second woman asked, looking up, her curiosity overpowering the need for courtly laws.

"Koume, Kotake, you two alone have the ability to track this girl. I need you to."

"But, why?" The two asked in unison.

"It is quite simple. The Triforce split, so logically the other fragments must have found homes somewhere. I believe that the girl has one of the fragments."

The twins looked at one another confusedly. "And how have you arrived at this conclusion?" the one, apparently named Koume, asked.

"The Triforce of Wisdom would search for the person who best fits its own quality, no?"

"Of course."

"And that girl, you never met her, I suppose you wouldn't know, but she has an incredible ability to see straight through people. She had at least one vision while I was there. And she was able to predict my attack and escape. Does that not seem wise to you?"

"But surely the Triforce would find someone older and wiser-"

"Do not mistake age for wisdom," Ganondorf answered. The two women looked slightly offended, quite convinced that he had just made a jab at their own ages.

"Of course," Kotake reasoned, "it would search for someone more… experienced no. Someone more intelligent."

"I just said not to mistake age for wisdom! Now, listen to me. I didn't come here to argue with you. I came here to get your help. Now you will track her for me!" Ganondorf responded, getting angry, causing the two witches to shudder.

"Of course, my lord." They answered reverently, to placate their king.

"Good. I will provide you with whatever you need to complete the task, just see to it that it is completed."

The two witches bowed again and backed their way out of the room.

_Soon_, Ganondorf thought to himself, _Soon your skills and your Triforce will be back in my hands, where they've always belonged. _He sat down on his chair, putting his head in his hands and thinking. _Why did you run, princess? Did you think you'd be much safer out there. I offered you a chance, and you would rather run like an outlaw. Well, then, you'll find that the world is a little harder than you expected it. In the end, you'll be happy to be on my side._

This thought cheered him up slightly. One day it would all work out.

* * *

The next day promised school again for Zelda. She had learned that she would attend school three days a week, and then devote the remaining four to her usual chores. That meant that, after that day, she would have to wait two more days before going back. Also, Capra had told her that he wouldn't be able to stay with her another day, although he would walk her there; he had other obligations. She would be on her own to unravel the mysteries of Ayleen and Miss Overworth.

When she reached school the next morning, she saw that Ayleen was waiting, with her crutch, in front of the building. The second that Capra had left Zelda dashed over to her, as surreptitiously as she could, which, given her eagerness, was not particularly stealthy. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Ayleen shook her head, gesturing with her hands that she should go behind the building. Zelda did so, and was followed by Ayleen a few moments later.

"So," Ayleen asked, "have you decided if you're going to be smart or stupid?"

"How could you tell?" Zelda inquired.

Ayleen looked vaguely offended by that. "What? Did you think I was so stupid, too? Did you?"

Zelda, confused, answered, "No. It's just… can any smart person see right through me?"

The girl paused in her rant and, to Zelda's surprise, gave a little smile of pride. "No, not just any person. But me, yes."

"Why?"

"Why? Because I'm stupid, too."

By now, Zelda was all but lost in the conversation and before she could gather up her thoughts to answer, Ayleen had continued. "Or at least, I'm supposed to be."

"Why?'

"It's my leg that does it. I was born like this, all twisted. I mean, it wasn't quite so bad then. I didn't have this little lump," She gestured to the strange bump on her leg. "That doesn't happen a lot, you know? Not around here anyway. You see, we used to have this healer, brilliant woman, I've been told. She could fix anything. Fevers, injuries, illnesses, she was amazing. And she used to know how to break bones," Ayleen accentuated the word by pretending to break an imaginary bone, "and then put them together right again. And everybody thought that she could do this for me.

"So they had her try, when I was only a little baby, because she said it would be easier then. So she broke my leg in three places. Followed all of the rituals, prayed to the goddesses and everything for my safe deliverance. Everyone says she did it perfectly.

"Well, I don't know what she did wrong, but breaking my legs didn't help at all. She could break them time and time again- she tried three times, once when I was a baby, once when I was maybe two, and once when I was four- and each time I would scream and cry. Yet each time she tried, she could break them just fine but she couldn't put it back together again. If anything, she just made it worse. That's why I have the extra bump.

"You have to understand, she never messed up. Ever. So everyone thought there was something wrong with me. Sure enough, a few months later a priest comes by, a priest of Din, I think. And he declares to the whole town that I'm a half-child, who could never possibly be anywhere near as good as a regular child. That's why nothing worked. And people believed him! It took me years to figure out why.

"I think it's because they wanted to have faith in their healer. They didn't know what they would do if she wasn't as good as they thought she was. So they decided that it was my fault. Well, a load of good it did them; she was dead a month later and everyone was left with me.

"Me, who couldn't work or do chores, couldn't walk without a crutch, and who had cost them their healer. So, they all get to thinking that, since I'm a half-child, I must be half as smart, so they all start treating me as stupid. I only go to school because my family doesn't want me around, as a reminder. So here I am, stupid just like you."

By the time Ayleen finished her story, she looked angry and defiant, but Zelda could see that there were tears in her eyes, much as she tried to cover them up. It seemed that, however strong she had made herself be, it was still too hard to actually tell the story. Now Zelda understood why the poor girl was so skinny and wore such a crude outfit. Everyone hated her, for making her face their fears, even if she didn't mean to.

"I'm sorry," Zelda told her, doing her best to respect her, to show that she didn't think she was stupid.

"Don't be. You didn't do anything. You're not like those idiots. They're the stupid ones. All of them."

Zelda didn't quite agree with this. She thought about Capra, who had actually encouraged her to speak to Ayleen. He wasn't an idiot. But, although she was slightly indignant, she was intelligent enough not to say a word.

"So then," Ayleen continued, "Are you willing to be smart?"

Zelda thought for a second. "It's just… I can't be smart. It's hard to explain…"

Ayleen looked at her for a second as though she were some sort of worm. "I didn't mean smart in front of everybody. They barely tolerate me as it is. If we started acting smart together, they'd run me out of town. If you thought that… Goddesses I must have made a mistake. You really are that stupid."

For a second, Zelda was offended, but then she saw the smile spreading across Ayleen's face, and a giggle formed in her throat. Soon both girls were laughing very quietly so no one else would hear. Zelda thought that Ayleen actually had a very pretty smile and a very pretty laugh. She thought that was nice. After all, Ayleen looked so sad all the time, it was good for her to be pretty once in a while.

* * *

Wow, sorry that update took so long. I've been going crazy with school and work and what not… But I'm on vacation now, so I should get a nice little break to do some writing, so hopefully the next update won't take so long.

Umm…. This is just a silly thing but I could really use some help on this. You know how Zelda's using a pseudonym? Well, I keep accidentally having characters who shouldn't call her Zelda call her Zelda. If you spot any of that, will you let me know? I think I caught it all, but I'm not sure.

-CaMiAk


	7. Chapter 7

I don't own this series

* * *

For a few weeks, Zelda found herself in a state of relative bliss, with her new, secret friend. If she tried hard enough, she could just about ignore the looming threat of Ganondorf. Surely Impa was exaggerating and Ganondorf would never come to East Marne. She could just about convince herself of this, with some clever denial.

It was fun to have a friend again; she hadn't had one in so long. She and Ayleen learned little ways to do what would get anyone else in trouble. They learned to steal little bits of food, of which Zelda always gave the majority to Ayleen. Within a couple weeks, both girls were looking marginally less bony. They would sometimes play pranks on the kids who were mean to Ayleen, and no one ever suspected them, because they were too "stupid".

It was funny, but she felt so light simply because she had a normal life again, at least for the moment. For the moment she could be free and cheerful and happy. She intended to seize those few weeks for all they were worth. Never had two people felt such an instant report as Zelda felt for Ayleen.

One day, about four weeks after Zelda first met Ayleen, the two girls were digging under some rocks for worms. One boy in the class, a young blond named Jakos, had taken it upon himself to shove Ayleen into the dirt when she moved too slowly. The two girls had hatched a plan, with a simple, childish sort of brilliance, to trick the poor, ignorant boy in return. Step number one in that plan was to dig up worms.

What they were going to do with those worms, neither girl had yet decided.

"Put them in his clothes," Ayleen suggested, but Zelda shook her head.

"Too obvious and too easy to get caught. Besides, we need something that he'll always remember."

Ayleen giggled at the thought of the boy wriggling with discomfort, screaming about worms. "Put them in his food?"

"No," Zelda answered flatly and put all of her attention to the task. "I've got it! But it'll take some time."

"We've got nothing but time," Ayleen complained. Zelda froze momentarily, her layers of denial penetrated. She hadn't told Ayleen that she would need to leave. And when she did then Ayleen would hate her for leaving her all alone again.

"So?" Ayleen asked.

"What?" Zelda answered, pulled from her own thoughts.

"So what was the plan?"

"Right. We dig a hole, not too deep, but deep enough for someone to fall into. Then, we fill it with water get a piece of cloth and put it over the top. Then we cover the cloth with dirt and get him to fall in it."

Ayleen looked at Zelda oddly. "Then what are the worms for, stupid?" It had taken Zelda some time before she realized that Ayleen used 'stupid' as her highest compliment. It meant that she considered Zelda a friend.

"Well," Zelda mused, "I guess we could put the worms in the water."

"But they'd drown! The poor things," Ayleen objected, holding a tiny earth worm in her hand. "Could you drown a thing like that?"

Zelda looked at the worm and wrinkled her nose. "It's a worm, Ayleen, not a kitten."

"What makes a kitten better than a worm?"

"Well, nothing, I suppose, but I'd still rather have a kitten."

Ayleen laughed at this. "I suppose I would too. Maybe we could just fill the hole with worms."

"First off," Zelda countered, "that's a lot of worms. Second off," She adopted a high voice, in a mock imitation of Ayleen's, "But they'd get crushed! The poor things."

Ayleen did not look amused, but Zelda laughed heartily at the girl's expression until finally Ayleen relented and giggled a little. "Oh, let's just put them in his food."

"But they'd get eaten! The poor things," Zelda continued, until Ayleen pounced on her and tried to tickle some sense in her.

"You done, stupid?" Ayleen asked.

"Yes, yes," Zelda gasped, in between spasms, "I'm sorry. So then, what _are_ we going to do?"

"I don't know, but maybe we should just leave the worms out of it."

"Maybe."

Both girls smiled at this and Ayleen placed her little worm back in the soil. "May the Goddesses grant you safe journey, little one," she prayed. Zelda thought it was odd to pray for an earth worm, but the little girl had such a devoted look on her face that she couldn't object.

"Well then," Ayleen said, her prayer finished, "we're going to need a new plan."

"So we will." Zelda looked up at the sky and noted the sun right above their heads. It was lunch time. "Lunch!" she shouted, "I'm late."

Ayleen jumped up with her and scamper after her as best she was able with her crutch. Zelda slowed down for her friend, but they still managed to make good time on their journey back to the village proper. Zelda scurried towards Ilda and Capra's house, but Ayleen began to slow down.

"I don't think I should…" Ayleen whispered.

Zelda rolled her eyes and peeked inside the little house. As per the usual, Ilda had had too much to do that day (she and Impa had both found work for other houses) and had left lunch on the table for Zelda and Capra. Capra's meal had already been eaten and the old man had probably left.

"Come on," Zelda urged, "No one's home."

"I don't know…"

"Come on." Zelda took Ayleen by the hand and pulled her into the house. Ayleen looked around wonderingly. "Not so bad, is it?" Zelda chided. "Now come on, help yourself. Eggs," she held the plate temptingly under Ayleen's nose. "And fresh baked bread."

Zelda tried to show Ayleen the meal, but the girl was frozen. "Oh fine," Zelda admitted, "we'll take it outside."

All that Ayleen managed was a small squeak. Zelda looked around confused, and almost dropped her plate. "Ilda!"

The woman stood in the doorway, her face turning red and her mouth hanging open like a fish's. Her eyebrows climbed high up into her forehead and her arms shook. Zelda thought that she was ready to scream and shout, but instead she said in a high, almost sweet voice, "Get out."

Zelda didn't know who she was talking too, but Ayleen seemed to understand, and moved to leave.

"No," Zelda objected, "Stay."

"Ular!" Ilda scolded. "You! Get out."

"No!"

"Get out!" Ilda screamed, her voice rising in pitch until it reached dangerous levels. An insane, almost laughing quality pervaded her voice and her whole form began to shake and twitch.

Zelda responded the only way she could think of. She screamed as loud as she could, throwing her arms around Ayleen and holding her tightly.

"No! Jina, get away from her! I won't let her hurt you again!"

Zelda didn't know who Jina was, and she was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't even notice when she was called by the wrong name. But the mention of the name apparently sparked something in Ayleen's memory, because she wriggled free from Zelda's grasp, and ran off.

"Ayleen! Stay!"

"No!" Ilda screamed, grabbing Zelda around the waist before she could follow her friend. 'No. No, stay. No." Ilda's brain didn't seem to be functioning anymore. All she could do was repeat the same two words over and over, holding tight to Zelda crying into her hair. She pulled Zelda into a corner, and sat the girl on her lap.

Zelda didn't like the contact, but she couldn't escape. The woman clung to her and wouldn't release her no matter how much she struggled. She cried and screamed and scratched at Ilda, but she wouldn't let go.

"No, no, stay, stay. Jina."

Zelda didn't know what to do, and she was out of ideas. Finally, she tried to search for the little spark of magic that was found in her, but she couldn't remember how to find it. She thought that maybe it had left her. Ilda squeezed her tighter and she thought that she wouldn't be able to breathe anymore if she held her any closer. Finally, she tried to reach out to her Triforce, which she had never tried before, but the little triangle embedded in her skin didn't respond. Maybe she wasn't doing it right. It didn't matter. For the moment, she was trapped.

"Ilda," Zelda said, trying to reason with the woman. "Ilda listen."

"Jina, dear, since when am I 'Ilda' to you?"

"Ilda, please, I can't breathe." But Ilda just couldn't be reasoned with.

"Don't you like to snuggle? You always like to snuggle."

"No, I don't want to."

"Don't you love me?"

"I-I-…" Finally Zelda was forced to realize that there was no reasoning with the woman. Whatever happened, the woman was gone beyond repair. "Help!" Zelda cried, praying some passerby would hear "Help!"

"Shhh…Jina" Ilda soothed, "Shhhh…"

"I'm not Jina!"

"Don't deny it. I know, I know."

" Know what?"

"I know your secret."

"What?" How could Ilda know? Did Impa let something slip? Panic struck Zelda. Would Ilda turn them in?

"Your secret, Jina. I know who you are."

"You don't know anything!"

"I know that you're my daughter, come back to me. Stay, Jina, stay."

Zelda was awestruck. Daughter? What did that have anything to do with it? Whatever it was, this woman was clearly not seeing things clearly. How could Zelda be her daughter? She was born miles away.

"No! No, I'm not. Let me go!" Zelda fought and kicked her, but Ilda held fast.

"Yes, you are. Yes, you are. Ever since the fire. The fire that took you away, took the whole school away. You shouldn't have gone. No one else left, only you. That healer, she would have saved you, too, I know it. She would have if that blasted Ayleen hadn't poisoned her! But now you're back. I prayed for you, and you came back to me. My Jina, my little girl."

Zelda was disgusted, but a sudden level of understanding came upon her. That was why Ilda wanted her in school, why she had spent all those days crying, why she called Zelda her miracle. And that was why she hated Ayleen. She had thought that Zelda was the spirit of her daughter. The girl must have been called Jina and she must have died when the school burnt down. The sight of Ayleen must have set Ilda off. And now Ilda would never let Zelda leave.

"Ilda, please, listen. I'm not your daughter."

"Yes you are. You just don't remember. Think. Remember when I used to sing to you, or we'd play in the river. Remember."

"No, Ilda. Let go of me."

"No. I won't let you leave me again." Ilda clung to her, until she couldn't move anymore. Ilda was crushing her windpipe and smothering her. She thought that if she didn't move fast, Ilda might suffocate her. She was hysterical.

Zelda knew that she couldn't simply wait for Impa or Capra. It just wasn't possible; Ilda's strength was inhuman. There was only one way out.

"Mother," Zelda said, with the last of her air. "I remember now. I remember everything."

Ilda looked up, wonder in her tear-filled eyes. But she released Zelda slightly, that was the important thing. "You do?"

"Of course I do. How could I have forgotten? I love you."

"Jina, my miracle. You came back to me."

It pained Zelda to see the look of pure, twisted joy crossing the woman's face. Somehow, the emotion didn't seem real, like it was filtered through a layer of insanity. But still, Zelda hated to lead the unfortunate woman so.

"I came back to you, because I love you."

"My miracle. My miracle. Mine." It seemed that Ilda's mind was stuck in a loop again, but that was alright. She was no longer squeezing Zelda and so she was safe as long as Ilda stayed like that. Sooner or later Impa or Capra would return. They would help her. She just had to indulge the woman's fantasy until then. It would be easy if she just kept repeating herself.

"Why did you leave me?" Ilda asked. "Why didn't you stay?"

Zelda tried to come up with the best answer to keep the woman calm. "I didn't want to. I love you; that's why I came back. I had to go. It was my time."

"But you were just a girl."

"I know. I know it was unfair. I didn't like it either."

"But I needed you. I needed you and you left me." Ilda was sobbing again, but she wasn't crushing Zelda anymore, so Zelda didn't mind. Still, it struck her as strange that the mother blamed the child for leaving. Usually it was the other way around. Zelda had often cried out to her mother when she was a little girl. She probably would have cried for her father, too, if circumstances had been different.

Suddenly, she saw Ilda in a new light. Not quite as insane. She was merely a woman who was so sad, so desperate, that she would believe anything if it gave her a bit of hope. Somehow, Zelda knew that she would be facing more of that in the future.

"Mother, hush. I love you, and that's all that matters. I didn't want to leave you, but I had to."

"Why did you have to?"

"I didn't have a choice, but I came back to say that I'll always love you."

"You came back to stay."

Zelda sighed, an idea formulating. She wasn't sure if she should take the risk, knowing that it could backfire. Perhaps, if she couldn't reason with Ilda like a normal human, then maybe she could reason with her in her fantasy world. "I'm not sure if I can."

"Yes, you can stay. You will stay." Ilda's voice took on its hysterical note again, but she thankfully didn't try to pull Zelda any closer. "Yes you will, my Jina, you will. I won't let them take you again."

"Mother, my place isn't here anymore. I know you've suffered, so I came here to ease your soul. But I belong in the other realm. I'm sorry."

"No you don't, you belong with me. Here. Now."

"I belong where the goddesses call me. You don't have to worry. I'm safe and happy, and one day you can come join me, and we'll be a family again. It will be perfect. You understand?"

Ilda nodded slightly, and sniffled, her bottom lip trembling like a baby's. Suddenly, Zelda felt as though she were the mother and Ilda was just a little girl.

"Alright," Zelda continued, "But for now I must make my journey back."

"But you'll stay with me, as long as you can?"

"Mother. You had to watch me die once. I won't put you through that again. I'll be strong, and I have my spirit guide to help me."

"Spirit guide?" By now Zelda was merely pulling excuses from the top of her head. Anything to get her out of there.

"Ki," she answered. "Ki was sent to guide me here, to you. Now she will guide me back. We will be safe. You needn't fret. Ki will take good care of me."

"But I'll take good care of you," Ilda objected.

Zelda sighed again. "If you really want, you can do one last thing for me. Will you?"

"Anything."

"Then you can make the journey more comfortable for us."

"How?"

Zelda wriggled enough to point at the door. "The supplies. And some food. With them, we can reach a safe, happy place to pass over. Alright?"

"Alright," Ilda nodded. She released Zelda and stood up to fetch them. Now Zelda had her chance to run, but she thought it was better to wait for the supplies. Then she and Impa could flee the village together, and make it far away from this woman.

"I-I," Ilda stuttered, "I packed you some eggs and some bread, and I gave you your old sleeping roll, and one for Ki, too. And- and- some fruit."

"Thank you," Zelda nodded, bowing her head and accepting the supplied. "And one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Enjoy your life for me. It's far too short to let a moment pass by. Will you do that?"

Ilda began to cry again. She moved to embrace Zelda one last time and Zelda let her. The woman was no longer a threat. She couldn't hurt Zelda, not now.

"Good-bye mother. Always remember that I love you."

"I love you, Jina."

Zelda picked up the supplies and walked outside, gently closing the door behind her. Inside, she heard as Ilda's sobbing slowly stopped.

Zelda ran from Ilda's house, looking for Impa or Ayleen. The latter was no where to be found; even Zelda couldn't hazard a guess as to where she had fled. Impa, on the other hand, was where Zelda had predicted. She had found a job working as an assistant for another woman, who had just had twins and was too occupied to handle everything. The pay was not incredible, but Impa thought it was best to save a few rupees where they could. Who knew when they might need it?

Zelda burst around the corner towards the house so fast that she collided into Impa. Although Impa had abandoned her traditional Sheikah clothing in favor of a more usual housewife's dress, her training had not disappeared. She absorbed the blow expertly without wavering, and reassuringly wrapped her arms around Zelda.

"Zelda," she whispered, using the girl's real name because no one was around, "What's wrong?"

Zelda suddenly found she couldn't say anything. Tears flooded from her eyes and she shook her head, silent.

"Zelda. Please."

''Ilda-" Zelda gasped, "Ilda, she…"

"Ilda? Did she hurt you?"

"She… she didn't. She almost… Jina… I… don't know," Zelda stuttered, but Impa seemed to understand.

"I was afraid this would happen."

"You knew about her daughter?" Zelda jerked back in surprise. "But then, why…"

"I didn't know, not originally. But I fit the pieces together eventually. That woman was unnaturally attached to you. Something was wrong."

"And you left me there with her?"

"I'm sorry," Impa protested. "It's just, I didn't know where else to go."

"But she…" Zelda looked up into Impa's eyes and was shocked to find tears in them. Impa reached out and lightly touched Zelda's face.

"I'm so sorry. Zelda, I'm so sorry. I was scared. I was stupid." For a split second, Zelda felt a desire to hit Impa, to blame her. And she knew that the woman would take whatever little pain Zelda could inflict. But in that instant, a horrible guilt overwhelmed Zelda's heart. For a moment, she felt the contents of Impa's soul and knew suddenly how horrible her own guilt was. Impa felt that she was supposed to protect Zelda, and she had let her own fears, her desire for stability get in the way. Zelda had almost gotten hurt, and she would never forgive herself.

The princess watched as Impa's very foundation shuddered. This was her life, her purpose and she was failing. Zelda recognized Ilda's suffering in her guardian, and she saw the hint of desperation beginning to crawl through Impa's psyche. Suddenly, Zelda understood everything, and that awareness frightened her.

Zelda pulled away, shocked. When their skin separated, the feeling also died. Zelda knew only her own spirit again, though the last traces of fears wouldn't disappear. They reminded her, inescapably, of her original vision. "It's alright, Impa. Really," Zelda answered, surprised at how mature her own voice sounded.

"No, it isn't."

"Yes," Zelda, "It is. What could have happened, didn't. There's no use fretting."

"I put you in danger. My first and only priority should be you. I failed in my task."

"No, Impa, no you didn't." Tears were forming in Impa's eyes and Zelda couldn't believe it. Her strong, stony guardian was breaking down. Without her, Zelda didn't know what she could do. "Impa, it's fine. Nothing's wrong. I forgive you."

The last three words seemed to have a magic effect on Impa because her eyes cleared and she looked around, her old self once more. "Thank you, princess. I don't know what came over me."

"It's the times, that's all. It's hard."

"Maybe," her nursemaid answered, skeptically, before shaking her head. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. But what does matter is how you brought me back to the ground like that. Truly, you do have wisdom."

Zelda nodded, though she wasn't sure what that meant, exactly. She decided to change the subject. "So, where to now?"

"I don't know, not here."

"I knew that already," Zelda answered, earning a look of reproach from Impa. "Sorry."

"It's alright. But now we have a problem."

"What?"

"I don't know where else we can go."

Impa looked down at the floor, for the first time in so long, completely without a plan. Zelda hung her head too, straining her mind. After a few seconds, though, Zelda looked up, her eyes bright.

"I think I know someone who can help."

* * *

"Tell me again why you think the school teacher can help us?" Impa asked, standing with Zelda's hand in her own, outside the door of the converted schoolhouse.

"She's from Castletown."

"I know, but that doesn't mean anything."

"Maybe, but she's our best bet."

"You really think you can trust her?" Impa asked. Zelda hesitated. Why did she trust Miss Overworth? Was it because they both had the same past? Was that really a reason?

"Yes Impa. I think we can."

"Well, then, I guess it's time we told the truth."

"I guess so."

* * *

"This is crazy!" Miss Overworth insisted. "This is- Ular, do you really…" The school teacher stared at Impa and Zelda, who had just explained the situation as best as they could, without giving away vital details. "You're going to flee the village? Honestly, just because the one woman, Goddesses help her, lost her mind doesn't mean you have to leave!"

Impa sighed. "We don't think that everyone will see it that way."

"But once you explain, surely everyone will-"

"When death is involved, people tend not to believe the truth, even if it's right in front of their noses."

"But honestly-"

"There's no two ways about it. We need your help, Miss Overworth," Impa interjected, leaving the school teacher silent. There was a tense moment of internal debate for the young woman. On the one hand, she knew the little girl and her guardian well, and wanted to trust them. On the other hand, they were asking her help to flee from a respected member of the town. It was crazy, the sort of story only found in, well, stories.

"What is it, exactly, that you want from me?" Miss Overworth asked reluctantly. Zelda and Impa smiled secretly.

"Nothing much. Nothing that will connect you to us. Just a map."

"A map?"

"Yes."

"What makes you think that I'd have a map?"

"You are a school teacher," Impa replied nonchalantly, "it seems like the sort of thing you might have."

"Well, I don't have one, so if you'll kindly be leaving-" Miss Overworth began, trying to usher the two potential criminals from her hearth. Impa tried to protest, but it was Zelda who formulated an argument.

"A map is only one possibility. Please, Miss Overworth, I know you're from Castletown."

Miss Overworth paused, but the hesitation was all they needed. "I figured it out that first day at school. I know that you fled Castletown and you chose to come here, to East Marne. Just like us."

"You too?"

"Yes, we had nowhere else to go, so we found a place to stay at the first village we found. We were running for our lives. Well, now this village is going to turn on us. You might not believe it, but I can sense it's coming. We haven't done anything wrong, but they're not going to believe us. Have you seen what they've done to Ayleen?" Zelda hated to invoke her friend's name like that, to manipulate her suffering, but it did work. Miss Overworth's gaze softened.

"I have, the simple fools. I thought maybe a school would help, bring some sense to this countryside. But all its done is raise superstition and fear. They think that this school house will be cursed by the goddesses themselves!" She hesitated for another moment and then sighed. "Yes, I'll do it. Tell me what you need and I'll do what I can."

"It's simple. We just need to know where else we can flee to, the names of nearby villages, or something. Someplace safe, free of Ganondorf."

Miss Overworth's face darkened at the mention of the usurper's name. "Yes. I understand. I know a place, three days to the South. It's no bigger than East Marne, but I think you can blend in. It's called Tayville, and it's still a free town. Take the road out of the South of town and keep going, you'll find it. It's impossible to miss."

Zelda's face flooded with relief, and she could have hugged Miss Overworth. Impa, too, relaxed perceptibly. The strained cords in her neck evened out and her eyes drooped a little.

"Thank you, Miss Overworth, thank you."

Miss Overworth pursed her lips and answered, "If you want to thank me, don't come back here again. I won't put myself in danger for you two again."

"Yes Miss Overworth, of course, Miss Overworth," Zelda gibbered as she and Impa were forced from the house. "And don't give up on the school, Miss Overworth. They'll come around!"

Miss Overworth shut the door, but Zelda continued shouting from the street, until Impa silenced her. That afternoon, the pair fled from the village on foot, leaving their old mare in the village, hoping that Capra would take it. He had so admired it when he first saw it. Zelda looked back on the old village, as they took the road, with a curious mix of love and hate. Regardless of her regrets, though, she that there realized, and wholeheartedly believed, that was nothing left to go back to. She never once cast her thoughts back, on the people she had left behind.

* * *

Ayleen curled up in the dirt hole left from when she and Zelda went worm digging, a few days before. She was getting messy, but it didn't bother her. No one cared anyway. She was just the burden that she had always been, the misfit, the half-child.

The first night she hadn't cried. She thought that Zelda would come back. Of course she would. She was her friend. She swore she was her friend. How couldn't she? Then things began to change. Hours flicked by, one by one, like pages in a book, and each time Ayleen's heart broke a little more. Each minute that passed was a stab in her chest, as she came to realize that her friend hadn't cared. She hadn't even said good-bye. She hadn't even bothered to find her and say good-bye.

Ayleen sobbed for a while, but her tears had dried, caked on her cheeks making little rivulets in the dirt that was already there. She wouldn't move, and no one had come to take her out of the hole. No one would notice, if she stayed there until she rotted and died. What was the point in moving anyway? Nothing but pain out there.

She thought of the little worm whose journey she had prayed for. When she was really little, she used to think that if she prayed for everything else in the world, maybe they would pray for her. She prayed for leaves and seeds and insects and babies. Once in a while, she used to pray for the people that hit her. She thought she could change them. But clearly nothing had prayed for her. Raising her fist, Ayleen smashed the ground, hoping that that little worm was beneath her fist, and that it was crushed by the blow. What was the use of praying? It did no good.

Her ears perked up at the sound of hooves. Not just one or two horses, but no fewer than twenty, all coming into the village. That was unusual. She heard the sound of a trumpet. That was even stranger. Slowly, reluctantly, Ayleen peered out from her hole, and then pulled herself free from it. She stood up and balanced on her crutch, then painfully began to walk, towards the village, where she knew she wasn't wanted. Still, she had to know what was happening. A few days before a spark of hope would have lit inside of her. She would have thought that maybe the horses had something to do with her lost friend. Now, she felt nothing but coldness and emptiness.

The village was packed. Everyone had made their way from their homes to see the men, or more accurately, women. Atop fierce steeds were no fewer than a dozen Gerudo warriors, interspersed with a sort of monstrous knight whose features were impossible to determine beneath its heavy helmets and armor but whose shape was distinctly inhuman. At the front of the parade was an angry looking woman. Her face was pointed, like a bird's, and her eyes were narrow and constantly moving. Her long red hair was pulled back into a tight pony-tail, stretching the skin on her face as tight as it could be pulled. Her lips were a ruby red, which reminded Ayleen of blood. She would have been pretty, perhaps, if she relaxed, but her face held such a look of contempt that that was clearly improbable.

"This is the village of East Marne?" the woman inquired, addressing no one in particular. Her voice was deep and cold. She waited impatiently for a moment. Clearly she was used to getting immediate answers. "Well?"

Finally, a man towards the front spoke, "Yes, it is. And you are?"

"I am Araye and I am here with orders from his majesty, the King Ganondorf. You do, I assume, consider yourselves a village within the kingdom of Hyrule?"

"Yes, Miss Araye-" the man began, but was cut off.

"Then you will pay taxes like the rest of Hyrule. Unless you wish to fight for your independence." The Gerudo and the mysterious knights shifted slightly. A definite threat hung in the air.

"Of course, but-"

"Very well, the King Ganondorf has ordered a survey. He wished to know everything that is produced here, everyone that lives here, everything that grows here so that he may be sure you do not try to cheat him of his fair share."

This time, the man did not speak. No one spoke, but people moved out of the way of the caravan. Soldiers began to dismount. The Gerudo looked bored, as though this were merely routine. They had evidently done it many times in the past.

Araye waited for all of the women to dismount before continuing. "Each citizen is to return to his or her home. An inspector will come to evaluate the circumstances." She made a single gesture, throwing her head towards her left shoulder, and instantly the Gerudo sprang into action. The people hurried, without exception, towards their homes. Even Ayleen struggled to reach her house, though she could not move quite fast enough. There was tumult all around her, people coming and going, pushing and pulling, until Ayleen found herself face first in the dirt, her leg in pain.

Persistently, she tried to struggle back to her feet. Her crutch was out of her reach, but she managed to stand and wobble a little. Then there was another blow to her back, this one malicious. She found herself sprawled on the ground again.

"Really, Mara, was that necessary?" a voice intoned behind her, but her mind was cloudy now and she couldn't place it.

"Miss Araye ordered them to their homes. This one disobeyed," a deeper, but scared sounding voice answered.

The other voice hesitated for a moment, but she could hear it humming in thought. "Perhaps you're right, Mara. She did disobey," it finally spoke, in a strangely sweet tone, and then paused another moment. Ayleen knew better than to stick around for her decision, but somehow, she didn't think that running would help the situation. They were faster, taller, and stronger than her. Running would only encourage them. Instead, she braced her arms beneath her, so they couldn't step on them or twist them, and buried her face in the crook of her elbows, bracing herself for the impact.

"But really," the voice, an older, feminine voice, continued, creaking like a wooden door that was swollen with age, "striking her when she's down? And here I thought you were better than us."

"It is not senseless, Madame Kotake, there is a reason."

"Reason?" A new voice chimed in, similar and barely distinguishable from the other, older voice. Ayleen felt a finger, with a long nail tracing down her hair. "I've never known you to be reasonable. Too impulsive, as usual."

"Madame Koume, no."

"No sense of strategy, Mara, that's why you've been sent all the way out here. Eh, Kotake?" Ayleen couldn't bring herself to raise up her head to look at the sources of the voices. Tears began to leak from her eyes, and she wished that she could dig her way into the ground like the worms and never be seen again.

"Indeed. Indeed," the other voice answered. "What, then, to do with the girl?"

"But, why? I mean, why do anything with her? She's just a girl," Mara insisted.

"Mayhap Mara doesn't understand the situation. Should we fill her in?"

"And waste our time on a country lieutenant? I think not, Koume."

"Correct you are. Mara, take the girl away from here. We have business."

Ayleen felt a hard grip form around her stomach. The arms that wrapped around her were bronzed and strong, pitiless in their grasp. She was lifted out of the dirt and pulled to her feet, but her legs refused to hold her weight and she stumbled. The arms grew impatient and lifted her up, half-carrying, half-dragging Ayleen away. Tears formed in her vision, but she didn't fight back. She looked at the ground silently and allowed herself to be pulled off, to an undisclosed location.

With the girl gone, Koume and Kotake resumed their activities. The pair waited, still and unconcerned until the inspectors returned. When at last the troops had re-gathered and delivered their reports to Araye, they finally stirred.

"Anything?" the pair asked in unison.

Araye, her face a mixture of disgust and shame answered quietly, "Nothing."

"A shame. The girl is slippery," Koume intoned, and Kotake nodded her agreement.

Araye was left confused. "What girl?"

"Never mind.," Kotake responded with a wave of her hand. The two sisters looked at each other and nodded. They began to search for the magic trail which they had traced all of the way to East Marne, the trail of the princess. Following the trail was sort of like searching for a distant bell that had been ringing for days miles and miles away. They could feel the power resonating through them but it was only with great skill that they could track it to its source. Tracking was an inexact science, but the twins were skilled.

Araye, however, knew none of this. "Does this have to do with that cripple that Mara took?"

"Now can't we show a hint of altruism without being accused of underhandedness?" Kotake asked, looking vaguely offended.

Araye, knowing the consequences of annoying the twins, stuttered. It was almost alarming to see such a usually proud and strong face looking nervous. "I mean no disrespect, but since when have you cared for the plight of cripples?"

"Well, Araye, you can rest assured that we have only the personal interests of King Ganondorf at heart. What we do here is all for him," Koume intoned. The two twins shared a look of finality, implying an end to the conversation.

"But what do we do with the village?"

The sisters exchanged one final look, and Araye had the creepy premonition what they were thinking. The twins shrugged, and then simultaneously answered, "Burn it."

* * *

Whew! That update took a while. Sorry, I was involved in a play. Anyway, good news, it's finally up. It's a little wierd, but hey. So, as per the usual, read and PLEASE review. It makes me really excited when people actually write back. So, I'm hoping I'll have more time to work on this soon. School should be lightening up (I hope). Also, I have a question for you guys. Should this story end at the end of the seven years when Link wakes up, or should I keep pushing through until the end?

Please write back with your suggestions, if you have them.

Thanks- CaMiAk


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own this series.

* * *

Two days on the road had made Zelda tired and irritable. They had also taken quite a toll on the quantity of supplies that the two had brought with them. Little food made walking difficult. Zelda's feet ached and her back was sore and she was so thirsty that she thought her tongue must have swollen to fill her whole mouth. But Impa, of course, didn't show any signs of strain, so Zelda, ever the prideful one, determined not to do so either.

Still, their packs were alarmingly light. The food that Ilda had given them was less the what it had seemed at the time. There were maybe two meals left for them, if they ate sparingly. They had to hurry to Tayville, so they could restock.

Impa knew very little about the geography of this area, but she hoped to reach Tayville by that afternoon. She had no way of gauging that possibility, but there was still hope. Impa, too, was tiring but refused to show it. If Zelda didn't have her to rely on, what would she do? Impa would not fail again. Zelda would be safe, she swore to herself, one way or another.

The road to Tayville was rough and stony. There were ruts left by wagon wheels and footprints of horses marring the flat surface, but the grass around the road was soft and dewy. The sun baked down on them, pleasantly in the morning, but as morning grew to afternoon, the heat reached oppressive levels. And still they walked with their one goal in mind.

As the sky grew darker and the sun neared the horizon again, they finally spotted Tayville. It was a rather large place, Zelda thought, though perhaps her perspective had been skewed by such a long stay in East Marne. There appeared to be a pattern of criss-crossing streets, surrounded on all sides by two story buildings. It reminded her vaguely of Castletown. The place was neat and clean, as though someone had gone through and polished the whole city, yet there didn't seem to be anyone about to rejoice in the splendor. The entire place seemed empty. Still, everywhere there were signs of life: a pile of barrels left stacked haphazardly, footprints that the wind hadn't covered up, and market stalls left out for the night. They entered the town just as twilight descended into night.

"It's awfully deserted, isn't it?" Zelda whispered to Impa. She wasn't sure why she was whispering, but it seemed to fit the mood.

Impa nodded tersely. The pair slowly walked into the city, heading down what appeared to be a main road. There were a few lights in houses, but not a single soul walked the streets.

"Where do you suppose everyone is?" Zelda asked.

Suddenly, Impa's arms snaked around the girl and pulled her to the side, with a hand over her mouth. Zelda felt her feet pulled off the ground as she was dragged behind the barrels. Impa gestured at her to hush, but it wasn't necessary. Zelda didn't think that she could talk even if she had to.

Walking around the corner was a Gerudo guard. Zelda hadn't seen one since the day of the siege, but she would have recognized the uniform instantly. The woman looked much like the other Gerudo Zelda had seen, though her hair was a more brownish shade and she left it down around her face. If anything, she looked casual, strolling down the street.

Instantly, Impa gathered that she was some sort of guard. And that could only mean one thing: Ganondorf had already captured Tayville. She and Zelda had to get out. Now! The guard had just turned the corner, away from the pair. Impa resolved to stay in her place a little while longer, until the guard was completely gone from view, and then run as fast as she could with Zelda.

However, at that moment, another set of footsteps approached and halted. Zelda's breath caught in her throat as the she heard the two guards exchange a few casual words of greeting. _They'll move on any second_, Zelda reassured herself, but they didn't move. Apparently, there was some gossip to be heard because both stood about for what felt like hours. Flicking her eyes about, Zelda looked for an escape. Instead, she saw only a crack of light, emitted by a window just above their heads. Its glow came dangerously close to them. She was positive that, if the guards looked from the right angle, they would spot them in the light. Instinctively, Zelda pushed closer to Impa's chest, as though they could bury themselves deeper into the darkness.

Then it all happened in an instant. Zelda pushed back just a little too far into Impa, shifted her weight just a little too much, causing her foot to slip just an inch or so. The sole of her boot made a scraping noise, just barely audible. Instantly, the guards lifted their heads, for they had been trained to suspect just such noises. They approached slowly, their swords drawn. They were clearly of the "attack first, ask questions later mentality."

Impa wrapped her arms around Zelda, ready to grab her and run, taking down any guard she had to, but another noise interrupted her. This noise was a clang, followed by another clang. It took her a moment to realize that these noises came from the street, but soon she figured out why. Someone was throwing items from the window!

Gently, Impa lifted her chin to see a young-ish man with black hair and a short beard standing at the window, tossing objects towards the guards and muttering angrily. "She used to like it," he whispered to himself, "Now she can't. No. No, she can't."

"Oy!" one of the guards called, but the man ignored her. The guard stomped up to within ten feet of the man, no more than five feet from Zelda, and yelled again. "Oy!"

This time the man's head shot up. "What?"

"What are you doing there?"

"What does it look like?"

"It looks like you were deliberately trying to hit us with your flower pot!" the guard informed him angrily.

"Well, I wasn't. Happy?"

"Then why were you throwing things?" the other guard demanded.

"I happen to want that pot out of my house, and I just couldn't stand to wait until the end of curfew, alright?"

The guards didn't seem to have a response to this. Here was a man who was not breaking a rule, per se, but very clearly wished he could. Now was probably the moment to be tough, but the young man didn't seem like the sort of person who would take kindly to a challenge. Not to say that they were scared, exactly, but they were rapidly becoming more and more confused.

Both of the guards, in a fluke of fate, had been raised within the confines of their own desert fortress. They had never been in an occupied city before, let alone dealt with this openly hostile, somehow insane behavior. They hesitated, and the man decided to press his advantage.

"Look, I didn't try to hit you, alright? I didn't realize there's another new law against throwing things."

Both girls looked at him strangely. Who was this man? Where was the fear? Weren't all of the people of Tayville supposed to fear them? "We're watching you," one of the girls insisted, but backed off then, thoroughly humiliated and altogether confused by the encounter. _Well_, she supposed,_ it was probably better to leave the strange man alone, anyway. After all, anyone who talked to himself like that probably wasn't too much of a threat._

The man continued to throw a few more objects out the window, muttering all the while as the guards walked away. Then, when they were finally gone, he whispered, "You're damn lucky, you know. Now get inside."

Impa looked up in shock to see the face of the man staring down at her and her charge. "Move!" he ordered, "before they make another round."

Suspicious but out of options, Impa shuttled Zelda into the relative safety of the indoors. Quickly, only a moment after she had stepped on the threshold, the man set to work securing his home. He slammed and locked the door, closed the shutters and turned to face them. He was a short man, with thick, hairy arms and the beginnings of a potbelly. He wore simple clothes, which had been worn threadbare. But his eyes, dark brown circles, showed a sort of steely resistance and suspicion as he examined the pair.

Impa stole that moment to examine her surroundings. The room was plain and small, but somehow comfortable. In the center of the room stood a table, with two roughly cut chairs. A fire burned in a deep, brick fireplace, while bedding was laid about ten feet from the flames, to absorb the warmth without the risk of catching on fire. A little sleeping boy, about Zelda's age, with a tuft of blonde hair, lay upon the bed roll. Apparently, he could sleep through just about anything. The man hovered over the table, watching Impa, as if challenging her to judge him.

Finally, although slightly unnerved, Impa demanded of him, "What just happened?"  
"I just saved you two, that's what," the man answered brusquely. "What exactly did you think you'd accomplish by sneaking in past curfew?"

"Wait," Zelda interrupted. "What do you mean, you saved us?"

"Those guards were coming for you. I distracted them. Cost me a perfectly good flower pot, too. I think a little thankfulness is in order."

"Thank you," Impa told him, "but why?"

"Why did I throw the flower pot? Well, it wasn't the best plan. Spur of the moment decisions never are. Lucky those guards were new on the job."

"No, no," Impa answered, shaking her head, "I mean, why did you want to save us?"

The man shrugged. "I told you, it was a spur of the moment decision."

"So, don't you know how dangerous that was?" Impa asked, slightly angered by the man's indifference. "Don't you know what they would have done if they had seen us?"

Suddenly, the man's eyes seemed to flash dangerously. His voice took on a hard quality, and though it did not go up in volume, it sounded distinctly scary. "My wife was killed by those Gerudo bastards. Yes, I know how dangerous it was."

Zelda swallowed quickly, and, summoning all of her nerve, told the man, "I'm sorry for your wife. We've all suffered for their reign. Thank you for helping us."

The man softened upon seeing Zelda. "You're welcome, girl." The man sat down in a nearby chair and sighed. "Why did you two come here?"

Zelda turned to Impa, who took the glance as her signal to create a story. "We heard from a friend that Tayville was still free of Ganondorf's tyranny. We believed her and so we fled here when our own village became unsafe. How long has Tayville been occupied?"

"It's not occupied. It surrendered," the man answered, bitterness in his voice. "About three months ago, Tayville asked to be made part of Ganondorf's Hyrule when nearby villages started falling. Of course, there were rules and restrictions that came with it. New taxes, the curfew. But it was a choice, and most people supported it. Those who didn't, and were too open about it, were cut down."

"The Gerudo killed your wife, to keep her from speaking out?" Zelda asked, horrified.

The man only shook his head bitterly, and Zelda thought she saw tears glistening in his eyes. "No," he told her. "It was the people that killed her. Neighbors, that we knew, who killed her to keep her from angering the Gerudo. They took her when she was in the market. It started as a fight, you know. She was talking, just talking, about how maybe we could fight the army, and how we were so far away from Castletown that not so many troops would come to subdue us. It was all very innocent. She was just talking to a friend, another woman. But some people heard her, and they got scared.

"Fear's a horrible thing, you know. It can drive the greatest man into madness. They were so scared that they told her to shut her mouth and she wouldn't; she was so angry at them for being so rude. She was so very innocent. She wasn't a revolutionary, but she just spoke too loudly, at the wrong time. And then the crowd, those two men, just lost their minds, and they raised their fists to strike her. A whole crowd formed, and then there was fighting, so much blood. Three boys brought her body to me. She was dead before the fighting had ended.

"But, I know, deep down, that it is all the Gerudo's fault. If they hadn't come here, it never would have happened. It was the fear that _they _created which caused her death. The day they killed her, I thought that I had nothing left to lose. So, when I saw you hiding, I helped you."

When he completed his story, the man breathed deeply. A heavy silence permeated the room. Finally, Zelda broke it by asking, "Is that your son?" She gestured to the sleeping boy.

The man nodded. "He's the only reason I didn't go and kill all the Gerudo that killed my wife. I couldn't leave him alone." Then, the man seemed to come back from his horrible memories. He lifted his head up and looked at the two girls. "So, you came here hoping to find shelter for the night, and you got caught on the wrong side of curfew, is that it?"

Impa nodded, and the man looked down at his hands.

"Alright, then. You can stay one night. Just one night, but I want you gone the second dawn breaks, you hear me?"

Impa and Zelda nodded quickly. Zelda wanted to get away from this man as soon as possible. At the very least, she wanted to ask Impa about him. But there was only one room and, as she lay her sleeping roll on the floor, she realized that she would have to wait a few hours.

It was a tense night for the pair. As exhausted as they were, they couldn't quite be comfortable in a house with that strange man. Truly, he was unusual.

Zelda lay awake, her head lying against Impa's arm, as she considered the man, whose name she had never learned. Something, a little nagging doubt was forming in her mind, in thoughts just precise enough to be put into words, but too vague to satisfy her. _Who really killed his wife? Weren't his neighbors really the murderers?_ But then, Zelda summoned the images of the Gerudo on the battlefield. She remember them hacking mercilessly at soldiers and innocents. The Gerudo were murderers. And even if they didn't kill the one woman, they killed enough to make her death make sense. So it was their fault, it had to be; the man was so sure. But still the doubts lingered a little, and haunted her dreams.

The following morning, Impa woke up long before Zelda, before even the sun had risen. Looking about, she was surprised to see the man from the night before already awake. He had opened the window when he awoke, and the last few minutes of moonlight shone at Impa. When she rose, he nodded to her, and then returned to his business: a thick, leather-bound book. After a few moments of awkward silence, however, the man addressed her.

"Do you have any food left?" he asked, and Impa nodded. "Good, he answered. You can use my fire if you need to cook anything. When the sun comes up, though, you should leave. Curfew ends at dawn."

Impa accepted his terms, loath as she was to eat the last of their supplies. Slowly, deliberately, she removed the last few piece of bread, and some kind of unidentified meat that was on the verge of spoiling. She scraped off the little pieces of mold, and then moved to wake Zelda and serve her. They would need to restock elsewhere. It wasn't safe for them to buy food in Tayville.

Wearily, Zelda rose, too, and accepted the meager meal. Impa had hoped that, if she made the display pathetic enough, the man would offer them food to take. However, he was apathetic to their problems, and continued to read, uninterested.

When the pair had finished eating, they watched the moon in stony silence as it dipped towards the horizon. Finally, just as dawn was beginning to break, the boy, the man's son, finally roused himself. Blinking his eyes, he shook his head like a dog trying to shake off the last of his sleepiness. Only after a few moments did he notice the presence of the strangers.

"Who are you?" he asked, alarmed, eying Impa warily.

"They're no one," his father answered for them. "You should forget that they were ever here, if you know what's good for you."

But, the boy had a curious streak and a loose tongue, as well as a disregard for orders. "Are you outlaws?"

No," Impa told him, hoping he would quiet. But he refused. Quickly he got up and walked towards them. Zelda decided that she didn't like him. The boy was too happy for her tastes, when she was too scared. It just didn't agree with the natural order of the world!

"I'm Salanis," he informed them both, eyeing them up and down. "I live here."

"I guessed," Zelda told him, curtly.

"Really? How?"

"You're his son," Zelda reminded him. "He told me."

"When? How long have you been here?"

"Since last night."

"Impossible. I would have heard you."

"No way," Zelda told him. "You wouldn't wake up if a dragon crashed through your roof!"

"Yes I would," Salanis told her, looking vaguely insulted.

"Oh no you wouldn't. Know how I know? Because you didn't wake up when your father threw a flower pot, or when Gerudo guards came to your house, or when we came in."

Impa was horrified at how much her charge would spill to a random boy who taunted her, but Salanis surprised her.

"No, I didn't wake up because that stuff never happened," he accused.

"Yes it did," Zelda insisted.

Within a few moments, the pair was bickering loudly and obnoxiously. _Just like children_, Impa thought, before she realized that her charge was, in fact, a child. Salanis' father caught Impa's eyes and raised his eyebrows. For the first time, in quite a while, Impa smiled.

But, like all dreams eventually cede to reality, the moment of childish rivalry faded the second the sun peeked through the window. It was as though someone had simply flung back a curtain on the life of Tayville. Out of nowhere, people appeared in the streets. Children played. Dogs barked. The long night was over and life returned to the village.

"There now," the man told them, "Curfew's ended. You should leave now."

Impa nodded without a word and hoisted her pack over her shoulder. Grabbing Zelda by the hand, she took her outside.

* * *

That morning, just outside of Tayville, the Gerudo commander Araye waited for Koume and Kotake to return. They had left a day before with the cripple girl, leaving Araye instructions to take her troops to this village and await them. So she had. It was an awkward business, traveling with such a large group. They had been forced to take a long detour, far to the west of the main road. But the Gerudo were swift riders, and their knights were fast. They had arrived at Tayville a few hours ago, in the dead of night.

Slowly, a figure crept up beside Araye. She knew, by the sound of her footsteps, that it was Mara, her second in command.

"Why are we here, Miss Araye?" the girl asked, and Araye looked at her over her shoulder.

"Because Lord Ganondorf has ordered it," she answered.

"We're not here taking a tax census, are we?"

Araye sighed and looked at her compatriot. "I don't believe so. But I can't prove or explain anything. Koume and Kotake know something we don't. They communicate with those knights, those abominations who follow us. I feel like the whole world knows a secret that it won't tell me."

Mara sat down on the grass by her commanding officer. Here, all alone, looking out at the village, the years of pomp and regulations stripped away, and they were just friends.

"Well, if the world knows a secret, it's not telling me either. So what do we do?"

"We do as we're told. And we try not to make the two witches angry."

Mara blushed and looked at the grass. "I'm sorry about what happened in that village. I didn't mean to make them upset. It was just… the girl disobeyed you; I couldn't let her get away with it."

"It doesn't matter Mara, she's gone. That girl is never coming back. No one who goes to the capital with Koume and Kotake comes back. The most important thing now is not to make those two hags angry again."

"Two hags?" a voice sniffed, angrily. "Is that really how you talk about us while we're not here?"

Mara and Araye wheeled around to see the two witches floating not ten feet behind them.

"Well I never," one of them (Araye knew it to be Kotake) huffed.

"Indeed," the other answered.

"I-I…" Araye stuttered.

"Never mind that," Koume answered, dismissively. "We have work to do now."

"Here?" Araye asked, and Koume nodded.

* * *

Impa and Zelda left the man's house quietly, blending in to the crowds forming around them. As they walked, Impa quietly whispered instructions to her charge.

"We'll take the main road out. Don't draw attention to yourself. And don't look scared; they'll be suspicious of someone who's too jittery."

Zelda nodded but quietly thought that this was easier said than done. She thought she must be shaking and wanted to vomit at the idea of Gerudos so close to her. She and Impa took a meandering route through the town, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Occasionally, Impa would wander past a market display and browse through the selections, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible. To Zelda, these little delays seemed to last an eternity.

Slowly, however, the pair wound their way to the edge of the city, but the sight that greeted them halted them in mid-step. There, in front of them, was massed no fewer then a dozen Gerudo and two dozen other creatures, (some sort of non-human knight, Impa assumed), all milling about awaiting orders.

Blissfully, they hadn't noted the pair, and Impa turned on her heels, and grabbed Zelda, hurrying her away from the scene. The Sheikah's mind was at work trying to puzzle out why so many troops would have come to Tayville. The city was apparently quite complacent to Ganondorf's rule, and the troops' bags looked too well-stocked to need new supplies. Again and again, Impa's mind returned to the impossible conclusion that the troops were there for Zelda. _No_, she reassured herself,_ there is no way they could have tracked her_. Still, she pushed the girl through the streets. They had to hide, or get out, or do something. But there was no telling where the Gerudo would go. Would they search houses?

Impa restrained herself from running- nothing alerted guards more than a person looking scared- but just barely. Still, she kept a tight, tight grip on Zelda's arm until the girl felt like her fingers were talons. Quickly, she and Zelda paced all to the other side of the town, where, to their dismay, they found an equally large battalion awaiting orders.

Instantly reconfiguring her plans, Impa thought of other ways out of the city, but she wasn't sure where she'd find a viable exit. She cursed herself for having taken her charge into a city that she didn't know the exact layout of. Maybe, if they could just slip, unseen, to a border, they could make a run for it. But then she realized that that would be impossible. The terrain around the city was too flat, too sparse. They wouldn't have gone more than a hundred feet before they were spotted. There weren't bushes to hide in or trees for cover either.

No, they were trapped. Their only option now was to hide. But where?

Impa and Zelda turned a random corner at high speed. The street they turned on to was big and wide, with maybe a dozen or so doors along it. The sun shone down strongly between the rows of buildings, illuminating all dark crevices and potential hideaways. Impa could not think of a worse place to conceal themselves.

Another person came running down the road in front of them. Impa tense, but could see, from his height, that he was just a child. She relaxed slightly, as the little boy skidded down the road. His blonde hair hung into his eyes and he panted heavily as he approached them. To Impa's surprise, however, he stopped in front of them. She paused for a moment, eyeing him up and down, before she recognized him.

"Salanis!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

He let out a few more breaths before he said, his words punctuated by pants and gasps, "Gerudo! Everyone's talking about it. They've surrounded the village. Father told me to hide in the cellar, and then I saw you, and I thought-" He looked strangely at Impa and Zelda for a moment. "Do you want to hide in the cellar, too?"

For a fraction of a second, Impa and Zelda exchanged a knowing glance. "We'd like that very much," Zelda told him, He nodded swiftly and directed them towards a little red door on the side of the alley.

"It goes underground," he said, "It's kind of scary. If you get scared, you can close your eyes… it helps because then you can't tell that it's dark…" he trailed off, embarrassed, and Zelda, in spite of the moment, laughed quietly. Even Impa smiled at the little boy. He opened the door- there was no lock- and let them all inside.

The interior was dark, terribly so, and Zelda understood why the boy was scared. "Dad said there are torches down here somewhere, but we should always be ready to extinguish them, if anyone comes down. I hope that doesn't happen, though…" Once all three of them had crowded inside, Zelda could make out a set of stairs leading some ten feet underground. Then Salanis shut the door behind them, and she could see no more.

Together, the trio felt their ways down the stairs, to the floor. It was slow going, even though there were no more than twelve stairs, especially since Salanis insisted on sitting down on the top step and then scooting his way down to the next one. Finally, after about five minutes, the group was settled on the floor feeling about for torches. They purposely kept quiet, to listen for noises of the Gerudo invading above, but all was silent. If there was any noise above it was dampened by the layer of stone above their heads. Once Salanis thought he had found a torch, but it was, in fact, just a stick. Another time, Zelda put her hand onto something slimy and refused to search anymore. Finally, it was Impa who located the torches, and gathered the group together.

However, to her chagrin, there was another problem: how to light it. Salanis explained his father had made no mention of matches and it was quite probable that he had forgotten them. As more and more time in the darkness passed, Zelda found herself getting slightly more panicked. It was easy in the darkness, to imagine horrors. Beside her, she could feel Salanis tensing. The boy didn't like the dark. Zelda could understand. During long moments of silence, where only the scuffling of their feet could be heard, Zelda pictured the invading armies creeping up silently to the door of this very room, and then, any second, the door would burst in and the Gerudo would come and that would be the end of the world.

As minutes ticked by, Salanis, too, grew increasingly terrified. Once or twice, Zelda thought she heard a sob from the boy. -After an hour, it was clear that there were no matches or flints, and banging rocks together in hopes of creating sparks would make too much noise.

Finally, with no other option and Salanis slowly panicking, Impa sighed. "I can light the flame," she assured them, "but you must never tell anyone how." And she drew on her magic and lit the torch. When the sputtering flame came to life, Salanis gasped and backed away.

"How did you do that?" he asked her. "Are you a witch? Like the Gerudo?" He scooted away from the group, looking quite pale and terrified.

Impa nodded. "I am a witch, of a sort. I am a Sheikah, and this sort of task is within our power. But no, I am not a Gerudo."

Salanis looked at her suspiciously, but in the end came forward. He was grateful for the light, even if it was magical. Even the meager light of the torch, however, could not repel the gloom of the cellar. It was a small square room, with no decorations or furniture. It was bare and unkempt. Zelda couldn't see why they even bothered keeping a cellar with no purpose.

Impa, on the other hand, saw a greater problem: no furniture or decorations meant nowhere to hide if the cellar were broken into, which it surely could be. Once they had backed their way into the cellar, though, there was no leaving it until the Gerudo had gone. The stone walls made it painfully difficult to guess what was occurring above ground. Had the Gerudo entered the city? Had they left? Were they simply going to raze the town and move on? There was no way to know.

However, these heavy thoughts did not occur to Salanis, a boy who was famously easily distracted. With the light returned to the chamber, he was ready to wait out the disaster. From his coat pocket, he withdrew a deck of cards. They were strange cards, though, Zelda noted, covered in ornate symbols and pictures.

"Play Tin?" Salanis asked, in a whisper, and Zelda looked at him strangely.

"What?"

"Tin. With the cards," he explained.

"What's Tin?"

"It's a game."

Zelda shook her head. "I'm not in the mood." How could he want to play a card game now?

Salanis accepted her rejection for the moment, before the torchlight flickered and a shadow on the wall made him jump. "Are you sure?" he asked, looking side to side, uneasily.

"Yes, I'm sure."

Another shadow. Salanis shuddered.

"Really sure?"

Zelda looked at him strangely, and then she realized. The boy was scared. He was terrified. He didn't like the dark, and he didn't like the Gerudo. He was living his worst nightmare.

"Alright," she acquiesced, "I'll play."

He nodded gratefully. "Do you know how?"

"I'm sorry, no."

"Well, the basic idea is to get the best hand you can force your opponent to call you on it."

"I don't understand."

"It's like this: every round you get a hand, and its worth a certain amount. Some hands are better than others. Then, you use take one card and put it back in the deck. Then you take a new one. You and your opponent keep doing that, until one of you calls for everyone to turn over their cards. When you turn over your cards, whoever has the best hand wins. Do you get it?"

"Can anyone 'call it' at any time?"

"Yes. It's a strategy game."

Zelda nodded. It sounded interesting. And it would keep them both distracted from the armies above their heads.

Salanis launched into an explanation of the different arrangements of cards in a hand, and what they were worth. Ultimately, he spent so long explaining the game, that they barely got to play a round, before the boy exhausted himself. One and a half-rounds in, Salanis called an end to the game. The distraction had eased the flow of adrenalin in his body, and he found himself, unexpectedly, closing his eyes.

Zelda, too, realized how tired she was. The running and fear had produced sheer exhaustion. But, she couldn't sleep quite yet. There was an issue that had nagged her mind for days, but she hadn't yet brought herself to ask. Finally, in the lull before the storm, when Gerudo could easily storm into the room at any given moment, it seemed the time to ask.

"Impa?" the girl began timidly, and the Sheikah nodded, signifying that Zelda had her attention. "I was wondering…" she trailed off.

"You were wondering why you couldn't call on your magic when you faced Ilda."

"Yes," Zelda breathed in wonder, "How did you-"

"I was wondering when you would ask me about it. In answer, you are probably out of practice. I have neglected your training. For this I am sorry."

"You mean, the spark hasn't disappeared?"

"No, _chiat_, it will never disappear. Magic doesn't work like that. When we escape from this town, I will help you find it again."

Zelda nodded, crawling toward Impa, who wrapped her strong arms around her waist. After a few moments of silence, Zelda asked, "Impa, is the Triforce magic?"

"Yes," Impa answered slowly.

"Does it work the same way as the other magic?"

Impa smiled and sighed. "I don't know, Zelda. I have never been close to the Triforce before."

"Can we find out?"

"Perhaps. I know a place which might help us, but I don't know if we can head there."

"Why not."

"It's in Kakariko. It's a small collection of volumes, guarded by a very old friend of mine. But, given the state of things…"

"Oh," Zelda answered. "Has Kakariko fallen yet?"

"No, praise the Goddesses. It's a miracle; I'm almost positive that the Gorons are offering aid, and maybe the Zora. The Hylian force isn't nearly strong enough to hold off Ganondorf for this long."

"What will we do when it falls?"

"Pray," Impa answered frankly.

"Impa?" Zelda said, "There's one more thing."

"Yes?"

"The day- the day Ilda attacked me…"

"Yes?"

"When I talked to you, you…"

"I?" Impa prompted.

"You almost went mad."

Impa looked at Zelda, shocked. "What?" she breathed, unable to formulate a better answer.

"I watched your mind, and you almost went mad. I watched you struggle with the guilt, feeling like you betrayed your purpose. You were desperate. You almost lost your mind. I couldn't explain it. I don't know how I know what you thought and what you felt. Your soul just touched mine and I could feel your heart."

Impa sighed and clutched the little girl to her, feeling tears burning in her eyes. "No, Zelda. No," she muttered but Zelda wasn't sure what she was refusing. "I didn't- what I mean is…" But she couldn't finish the sentence.

"Do you think it was the Triforce of Wisdom?" Zelda asked, and Impa nodded.

"I've never heard of anything like that ever. It must be the Triforce. I can think of no other explanation."

"It must be," Zelda answered, unconvinced.

Impa inhaled deeply, and told her charge, "Zelda, you should know…" she hesitated, "What I felt that day was a horrible sense of failure, as though I had betrayed your trust. But I wasn't going mad, I swear. I was scared."

"Impa, I know."

"No, you don't, not quite. I want you to know that you can trust me. I won't ever betray you, and I'll never fail you like that again. I promise."

Zelda nodded and ceased talking, although they both knew that Impa didn't have the power to make such a promise.

"What say you, Zelda? Shall we do a little magic practice, while the boy is still asleep?"

Smiling, the princess nodded. With intense concentration, she felt the little spark within her for the first time in months.

* * *

Mara inhaled deeply as she walked through the streets of Tayville. Her Gerudo garb drew stares of curiosity but had so far elicited no open hostility. Hours had passed since Koume and Kotake had gone ahead of the troops into the city, leaving Mara with strict orders not to follow them until ordered. But, then the sun had passed overhead, and then the sky had turned orange, and Araye couldn't control herself any longer.

It wasn't that she particularly felt concern for the whereabouts of the witches. It was curiosity, in its purest forms. Ever since Araye, too, had confirmed her doubts as to their purpose way out, inspecting distant, tiny villages, Mara was possessed of a need to know exactly why they were there. So she had followed them into the city, and wondered around, looking for any tell-tale sign of the witches.

The first clue was a glass windowpane, lodged on the front face of a large, brick building. Spreading across it, like a feathery spiders web, was frost. Mara pressed her hand to the glass and felt the chill spread through her skin, a sharp contrast to the pleasantly warm air. Then, she knew that the ice witch had been there, recently.

Peeking inside, through the tiny bit of un-frosted window, she could see and flash of red._ The fire witch_, she realized. They were inside. With as much stealth as a Gerudo could manage, she crept around to the side of the building, ducking into one of the side streets. There, a blessedly open window greeted her, and she pressed her ears close to the crack. Softly, she could hear the witches' voices, mumbling strange words which she didn't recognize.

Both witches were fiercely concentrating. Mara watched them for at least ten minutes, before one of them slumped back in frustration.

"I can feel her, but the signal is so erratic, Koume," Kotake asked, "Have you got a lead?"

"Better than a lead. Her trail's the strongest I've felt yet."

"You mean she's here?"

"Yes. She must still be in the city; her trail is ringing so hard, it's almost giving me a headache, sister."

"Can you pinpoint her."

"Yes, sister. I've always been better at tracking than you."

"That's debatable."

"We shall see, when I find the princess and you're still trying to find the door."

Kotake looked up in anger and floated towards the door. Koume followed, and the two of the zipped out of the building, following some unseen, undetectable trail.

_Princess? _Mara wondered. But it was too risky to try to follow the witches in the open. Without options, she retreated to her camp, and prayed that Araye wouldn't have noticed her absence.

* * *

Zelda had been practicing touching her spark for what must have been hours. She would reach down, feel the little bit of playful energy and retreat. It was like a game for her. At times, she felt the spark was cautious or weary of her months long absence. At other times she thought it was eager. Concentrating very hard, she managed to pull it a few inches from her core but it retreated. She wondered, vaguely, if it was angry that she had ignored it for so long, or that she had nearly expended it all those months ago, at the banquet.

Such was her concentration, that she didn't notice the disturbances, the change in the air that caused Impa to stiffen, or the small thump which awoke Salanis. She didn't realize what had happened, until the door was flung open and the dim light of sunset cast down on them.

"Well, Koume," a crackly old voice spoke, "Who's the better tracker now?"

* * *

Before you kill me, I'm very sorry. I keep promising updates, and then giving them to you in like a month. If it helps, this was a really had chapter to write and this was another, killer month. Hopefully, _Hopefully_, things will lighten up soon. On the plus side, I may be putting up one or two one-shots in the next couple of days which I wrote a while back. They're not the best, but the might be a fun way to kill time. Also, I hope this story isn't getting too confusing. When I have to go back and check the names of characters, I'm guessing I've made too many. Oh well.

Till next time,

CaMiAk


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